Of Roses and Thorns
by Storm Midnight
Summary: When Canada gave France a second chance, he knew it would only be a matter of time before his heart was broken... Again. Will he fall victim to France's charm once more or can a certain Prussian save him? Franada vs  PruCan; Rated M for France, et al.
1. Chapter 1

**One could say that this story was born from a dream. A very strange, Hetalia-related dream. It was one of those moments where I knew I had to get up and write... And write I did!**

**Hetalia and its characters do not belong to me in any way, shape or form, I only can lay claim to the situation I put them in and some quotes that I use.**

**That small thing aside, please enjoy!**

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><p>He really couldn't tell when the night had started to go downhill. At first it was just him answering to a rather innocent question: who had the best wine? That little question led Francis Bonnefoy, personification of France, to the house of the respectfully sunny and stormy Italy brothers. He had brought several of his finest bottles with him, eagerly responding to Lovino's unspoken challenge when his bubbly little brother posed such an innocent little question.<p>

Seventeen bottles of wine later, the night had a not-so-innocent end.

In the morning France found himself tangled up with Feliciano. First there was blank shock, then a strange sense of satisfaction. Only after rolling out of bed did the Frenchman begin to panic. Although drunken sex was always a pleasant surprise for him, that did not change the fact that the man in front of him was already committed. Italy had finally gotten Germany to say yes to him after nearly two years of begging, whining and groveling. They had only been 'dating' for a month.

Said German would be after France's blood come tomorrow.

He began to search for his clothes, a journey that led him downstairs. He eventually found them strewn around a couch, where a very bare Lovino now lay.

By the hand of every divine being in this universe... Spain was going to murder that Frenchman.

After haphazardly pulling on his garments Francis all but sprinted out the door and into his car. He fumbled with the keys for a few moments but then slammed his foot on the gas pedal and sped off. He looked at the clock on the dashboard, Seven twenty-three. He had time to make a few necessary stops before heading home. 'Please let Mathieu still be asleep, dear God _please...'_

xxxxx

A few hours later, bleary Canadian eyes blinked open as the pleasant smell of breakfast filled the room. A tray was set up next to the bed, filled with an array of sausage, bacon, eggs, and a hearty stack of pancakes. Next to it his Frenchman stood with a large bouquet of roses in his hands.

"...Francis...? What's all this...?" Matthew suddenly sat up, "M-Maple! Is it the fifteenth already? Did I oversleep?!" He grabbed the calendar on the bedside table; searching for the tiny box he labeled 'Anniversary.' "I-I can't believe I forgot..."

"Relax, _mon cher..."_ France sat on the edge of the bed and placed a kiss on Matthew's forehead. "Today is ze tenth... I just thought I'd be a bit... Spontaneous!" Mattie did his best to try and ignore the flash of guilt he saw within his boyfriend's blue eyes.

With a flourish Francis served breakfast in bed. "So I was wondering... What are you planning for our special night?" In a few days it would be a year since they went out for the second time. Their first fling had ended on a rather sour note (and details that Canada would never dare to repeat) but somehow the perverted Frenchman convinced the young blonde to take him back. They had been on and off before that, yes, but that day France had sworn that he would belong to Matthew alone. And since the country of love took care of their first anniversary, the Canadian insisted that he handled things this time around.

"O-Oh... Well..." Mattie let out a nervous chuckle, "...It's still a surprise!"

"Can't you give me a 'int?"

"...No!"

After breakfast was done with France gathered the plates and tray and headed downstairs. As he deposited said items in the sink, the phone rang.

"_Bonjour!_ Bonnefoy residence, Francis speaking!"

A rather stained voice answered him, and... Did he hear sobbing in the background? "France-san? This is Japan..."

"Oh? And 'ow may I 'elp you zis fine morning?" Sure it was already quarter past twelve, but who was keeping track?

"Werl... I... Um... You sir, have, um..." The Asian nation fumbled with his words. There was a crash, then the sound of someone struggling.

"_BASTARDO!"_ Feliciano Vargas screeched into the receiver. "YOU'VE RUINED EVERYTHING!" Insane, frenzied sobbing was heard. He began screaming wildly in his native language. France flinched, Italy was never angry. Rather intently he listened to the Italian barrage, trying to gather what info he could.

"...I hate you... You're a sick man... Ludwig... left... Won't even speak to me... Not answering his phone... All your fault... You sick bastard...!"

After another minute the Frenchman hung up.

"Who was that...?"

"Nothing important, _mon cheri!"_ France waved it off with a seemingly nonchalant smile. A knot of unease began to form in his stomach, and he felt like that would not be the only call he would be receiving today. Surely enough, his prediction came true two hours later. The answering machine buzzed, and Francis insisted that he check it. His Canadian frowned, trying to figure out if something was wrong, but merely shrugged and went back to the book he was reading.

"Bonjour!_ You 'ave reached Francis Bonnefoy!"_

"_...And Matthew Williams... Umm... We can't get to the phone right now... And we're really sorry about that—"_

"_Leave a message and we'll get back to you soon! _Au revoir!"

After the beep sounded a dark voice growled into France's ear, "You, _señor,_ are in deep _shit._ Pray that you do not cross my path anytime soon, because I'll be sending you straight to hell otherwise."

The message clicked off, and the Frenchman was unable to suppress a shiver of pure terror. In his mind's eye he saw Antonio with his famous battle axe, sharpened and ready to kill. Francis had forgotten how possessive the Spaniard could get when it came to his Lovi.

France fucked up.

So, so badly.

Words would not even dare begin to describe how badly he had fucked up. The reality of the whole situation came crashing down on him. He hung up the phone and glanced towards the couch, where Mattie was still engrossed in his book. How on earth was he going to explain this one?

Francis walked over to a large vase situated on the kitchen counter, which was filled with the roses he bought earlier. Each bloom was beautiful, bright, and full. Matthew was not an idiot; he knew that France only brought him home lavish bouquets when something was wrong. The more roses, the worse the crime. The meek blonde looked up from his novel to see his boyfriend elegantly pick a single rose from the arrangement and bring it over to him, a smile on his face. With its stem firmly gripped within the Frenchman's teeth he draped himself across the back of the couch, giving the Canadian the most seductive look he could muster.

A small sigh was heard, "...No..."

Undaunted, the older nation reached out to caress Canada's face, but the boy drew away.

"...I said _no."_ The last word was forceful, angry even. France spat out the rose and pouted.

"Why not?! You never denied me before!"

"I'm just... Not in the mood..." Mattie picked up his book once more, "And there's that meeting in Berlin tomorrow, remember?"

Yes, now that it was mentioned, France did. They were to take a late night flight to the German capitol. That meant Germany would be in charge of the meeting and France would be dead within five minutes of it. He let out a groan of frustration and stormed away. He remembered sitting down with the Canadian and packing bags, and how those bags were already in Matthew's car. Rather childishly he stomped into the master bedroom and slammed the door.

Canada flinched when he heard the resounding noise echo throughout the Frenchman's elaborate chateau. The young nation's eyebrows knitted together in concern, why was France acting like this? The boy flipped to the back of his book, where two sets of airplane tickets were hidden. One set was for the meeting tomorrow, and the other was the anniversary surprise: two tickets to Old Quebec City. Mattie wanted a chance to visit his home country, and at the same time show how much his French roots meant to him. France mentioned once that he thought the place was 'rather interesting,' leading the Canadian to believe that this was the perfect gift. With another heavy sigh he tucked his book safely away and lay down on the couch. He'd simply take a nap and wait for France to calm down, which shouldn't take too long. He relaxed himself and willed the seconds to pass.

xxxxx

"Mathieu..." A voice called softly to him, _"Wake up!"_

"Hmm...?" The Canadian sat up, it was dark. "H-How long was I asleep?" He asked while fighting the urge to yawn.

"Quite some time, _mon beau._ We need to start 'eading to the airport."

At those words Mattie jumped up and hurried to get ready almost forgetting to grab his book where the tickets were hidden; after five minutes he was in the car and they were off to their destination.

"Sorry for oversleeping..."

"Non, I am sorry for not waking you sooner, but I did not 'ave the 'eart to disturb you when you looked so peaceful." France paused, "Also... I am sorry for seeming so upset earlier... I was in a bad mood and thought a little_ amour_ would help..."

Canada did not response immediately, he suddenly asked, "What time did you get home last night?"

The older nation froze. He focused his eyes on the road as he carefully formulated an answer, "Around three in the morning... If I worried you I am sorry..."

His love let out a small sigh before asking, "...Please don't stay out that late again without letting me know, okay?"

"Of course_, mon Mathieu."_

A significant amount of time passed, "Francis... Did anything happen last night that I should know about?"

The car screeched to a halt, "We're 'ere," Ignoring the question entirely; he got out of the car and gathered their luggage. It was only two day trip, so other than their briefcases (which constituted as their carry-ons) they only had one suitcase each. Slowly Mattie climbed out of the car, more confused than ever.

"Come now, I want to be early."

They passed through security with very little trouble and were waiting to board their plane.

"...Did I do something wrong...?" The quiet Canadian whimpered as he tightly clutched the handle of his briefcase.

"Huh?"

"...You've been so angry today... Is it because I didn't let you...?" Matthew blushed, "W-Well, you know..."

An announcement rang throughout the airport, "Flight three-fifteen to Berlin, now boarding."

Again France ignored the statement, "Let's go," He muttered as he proceeded to the boarding gate.

They took their seats in silence and waited for the plane to take off. Francis allowed the northern nation to take the window seat, and situated himself next to the young blonde. Once their plane finally did leave, about half of its passengers had fallen asleep, France included. His head gradually fell to the side and landed on Canada's shoulder, much to the boy's chagrin. He was still wide awake from the long nap he had taken earlier, and contented himself with staring out the window, watching the City of Lights disappear from view. He looked back to his seemingly peaceful lover and frowned. The Frenchman was so close, but Mattie felt like he was a thousand miles away. He glanced back out the window, Paris was gone.

A strange feeling of loneliness settled within the Canadian's chest. He felt like France was going to disappear at any moment, and leave him alone on the plane. "...Francis...?"

In response to his name the man let out a soft grunt and resumed sleeping. He had ignored Matthew yet again. Canada leaned his head on top of the Frenchman's and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that everything was okay.

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><p><strong>Damn that frog! But other the other had I actually like Francis... To be honest I like all of the characters, I just enjoy pitting them against one another a little <strong>_**too**_** much.**

**I've actually been working on this for a **_**while**_** and I have up to Ch. 7 written, yay! So if you like this, review and I'll post the second chapter in a day or two! (Or when I get five reviews, whichever comes sooner)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, people actually like this! Erm... Well, here's Ch. 2!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia this wouldn't be here.**

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><p>The time for the meeting came much sooner than expected. Canada downed a couple cups of coffee before leaving the hotel and was well into his third as he entered he large meeting room. He looked over his shoulder to ask France where they were to sit, but to his surprise the Frenchman had vanished. He was unable to dwell on that fact for to long as he was approached by Arthur, also known as England.<p>

"Oh, um, hello there..." Arthur stared blankly at him for a moment, "Um..."

"Matthew..."

"Right!" The Briton blushed; embarrassed by the fact that he had forgotten his brother-in-law's name... Again. "Have you seen that frog anywhere? I need to have a word with him."

Frog?

Oh right, Francis.

Canada looked over his shoulder once more, "He was with me just a second ago..."

"Oh well, it can wait," Arthur smiled, "So how have you been? Anything going on?"

"Nothing much, just planning on traveling sometime soon.

"Really?" The Briton seemed intrigued, "Where, might I ask?" He listened politely as Mattie explained his plans for the anniversary trip to Quebec with France. England's smile faltered briefly at the mention of the older blonde, "Really? That sounds nice..." Did those green eyes shine with pity, or was Canada's own just playing tricks on him? "If you excuse me, I'll go find that frog for you."

The offensive nickname struck a chord, "...He has a name, you know!" He also has been acting strange as all hell for no apparent reason. Disappearing like that, not talking, he didn't even try to molest anyone today! Again Matthew got that pitying, knowing stare from England that only served to frustrate the Canadian even more.

"Yo Mattie! Over here!" Canada's twin brother, America called him over. Alfred had his usual sappy grin and gestured to the chair next to him, "Take a load off, meeting doesn't start for a few more minutes."

After he was seated Canada turned to his brother, "Have you seen Francis? He was with me a few moments ago..."

America shrugged, his eyes narrowing in disdain, "Beats me," Out of the corner of his eyes he watched Arthur leave the meeting room, "Where's Iggy going?"

"He just said he was going to help find Francis."

"WHAT?! I thought I told him he wasn't allowed anywhere near that bastard!" America looked around in a panic, "God knows what that pervert will do if he finds Iggy alone..."

As soon as the words were out of the American's mouth his northern relative punched him square in the jaw, drawing the attention of every other nation in the room.

Alfred quickly recovered, and realized what was happening, "Oh God... You don't know, do you?"

"...Know what?! What's going on?! First Francis is acting strange then Arthur and now you... I demand an explanation!"

At that very moment the main entry doors slammed open, revealing Romano and Spain. Lovino's face was passive, remorseful even, and Antonio's reflected a raging fury. Balanced on the Spaniard's shoulder was a battle axe that looked like it had been recently sharpened and shined. One hand gripped the shaft of the weapon effortlessly while the other arm was tightly wrapped around Lovino's shoulders. He was steered to an empty seat across from Canada. The Italian was shoved towards the chair, _"Siéntate,"_ Antonio growled. Wild green eyes suddenly bored into the Canadian's, as if this whole arrangement was his fault.

Romano spoke up, "He isn't part of this!"

"_¡Cállate!"_ The Spaniard's voice was downright dangerous. His eyes scanned the room, flicking back to Matthew every once in a while. Antonio let out another angry growl and positioned himself at Romano's shoulder. The South Italian looked down, shameful.

The other countries whispered amongst themselves, all casting furtive glances towards the Canadian. All eyes held that same look of pity, every expression when talking was of disgust.

What in the name of maple was going on here?!

Another thing was also becoming apparent... The meeting should have started already. Several nations looked at their watches then at each other, each face an identical mask of surprise, then a single whisper went around, and that knowing, pitying look returned.

Germany was late for a meeting.

Not only that, but he was late for a meeting in his own capitol.

Something was terribly wrong with that picture.

At that moment the door was pushed open again. Germany, closely followed by Italy, made their way to a pair of the few adjacent seats remaining.

"Ve! How many times do I have to say I'm sorry before you believe me?!"

Ludwig looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep, he also looked like he was ready to shoot the first person he saw, so everyone instinctively gave him a wide berth as he made his way to his chair. Feliciano continued to blubber various apologies.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear! You know I would never do such a thing if I had been thinking straight! Please understand me! I wouldn't have dared throw away what we had after I spent so long—"

The irritated German rounded on Italy, "For once in your life vill you please just SHUT UP?! I am sick of hearing your voice!"

The brunette fell silent but broke into fresh tears. He took his seat quietly while Germany remained standing.

"I apologize for my lateness; I assure you that it vill not happen again." He then moved to check attendance. Ludwig did this regardless of who was in charge of the meeting. Carefully he ticked down the list of names, looking up to match it with a face. He froze after reaching one name in particular. "...France..."

xxxxx

"Francis Bonnefoy!" The name shattered the silence like a gunshot.

Said man flattened himself against the stretch of wall next to the door. He was supposed to be hiding as to not get killed but his curiosity led him to spy on the meeting via the cracked main door. Ludwig had brought the Frenchman's absence to the attention of the rest of the world. There was a long, eerie silence.

A small voice came from next to him, "Hello there... Frog."

Had he been a lesser man, there was a good chance that France would have screamed like a girl. He whipped around with his heart thundering in his chest to see England glaring at him. "M-Mon Angleterre? Why are you not at ze meeting?"

"Funny, I should be asking you the same..." The Briton slowly walked over to the door, placing a hand against it.

Francis paled, "Arthur... Don't!"

"Give me one bloody good reason not to, you cheating scumbag..." Simultaneously England slammed the door open and shoved France into the room. Arthur bellowed in an obnoxiously loud voice, "WHY HELLO THERE FRANCIS BONNEFOY, HUMAN MANIFESTATION OF _FRANCE!_ HERE, IN THIS ROOM, AT THIS MOMENT! WHY WERE YOU OUTSIDE THE DOOR _FRANCIS?_ IT LOOKED AS IF YOU WERE _HIDING_ FROM SOMEONE! WELL YOU'RE HERE AT THE MEETING NOW! IF _ANYONE_ NEEDS TO SETTLE ANYTHING WITH HIM, FRANCE—AKA _FRANCIS BONNEFOY_— IS PRESENT AT THIS MEETING!" England took a deep breath, "You're welcome," He stated before taking his seat on the other side of America.

Tensions were so high.

No one dared to breathe.

Very calmly, Ludwig climbed up onto the table and walked across it. He hopped off in front of France and took a few steps forward. Nothing about his body language portrayed anger or hostility, until he pulled out his gun. With military grade precision the barrel was lined up with the patch of skin between Francis's eyebrows.

"Not so fast, Ludwig!" Spain walked over, "He touched my Lovi first, so I get first hit!" They both had a deadly calm around their actions, and somehow a furious sort of energy poured from their words.

Canada looked on in horror. Several nations, himself included, got up and moved in closer to the confrontation. What were they talking about? What was going on here?

Germany nodded in agreement, but did not lower his weapon. "...If you insist..."

Smiling as he allowed the axe to fall into his other hand, Antonio slipped into a fighter's stance.

They were ready to kill the Frenchman, and the others were just going to watch?!

Where was the humanity in that?!

And with that thought Matthew dashed forward. He shoulder tackled Germany in a way that only a hockey player could, and threw himself in front of Francis, halting Spain's advance. "...Wh-Whatever you all are fighting about... I'm sure it can be resolved without violence! No one is going to lay a hand on him as long as I'm here!"

"You're really going to protect him after vhat he's done?!" Ludwig demanded. Upon seeing Canada's confused reaction, the German stated. "He didn't tell you..."

"Tell me what?!" Mattie spun to face the one he championed moments ago. "Francis, what are they all talking about?!"

"I'll tell him!" Antonio offered ruefully. "If _you_ won't say it, I will!" France looked to the ground, resigned. The Spaniard took that as a sign to continue, "He slept with my Lovi! And it didn't stop there! He also slept with Feliciano!"

Silence.

Shock.

Still.

Silence.

Very slowly, Canada looked to the Frenchman.

Everything fell into place.

The roses, France's odd behavior, Spain's anger, Germany's irritation, Romano's reserve, Italy's hysteria, and all of those looks of pity...

Everything made sense.

Tear filled cerulean eyes met those of a lighter shade. _"Why?"_

"Mathieu..._ Please... _We were drunk and—"

"_Non!" _The younger man shook his head furiously. "You lied to me!"

France moved closer to the Canadian, reaching out cup a tear-stained cheek, "I'm so sorry... So, so sorry..."

In retaliation Matthew slapped his ex-boyfriend with enough force to send him to the ground_, _"No!" The young blonde backed away, shaking with hurt and rage. "You said... You said things would be different this time!" He let out a sob, "You promised you'd change... But...!" Unable to stand the sight of the man before him Canada turned tail and sprinted out of the meeting.

Throughout this no one noticed a pair of red eyes watching the scene unfold from the far corner of the room. With a quietness that seemed uncharacteristic for this man, he got up and retrieved Matthew's forgotten briefcase before slipping out of the room's other exit. Once out he looked around carefully, wondering where the Canadian could have run off to before setting off to find him.

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><p><strong>USUK, Spamano, and GerIta are my OTP's and I realized that a driving force for this story is the fact that I don't have a particular preference when it comes to pairing Canada (though I do realize that this fic is anti-France, and there's a chance it'll stay that way) <strong>

**So... Review? Fav? Alert? I guess I'll stick to the 5 reviews = New Chapter formula... Hopefully it works?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this one's late! I'd like to say thanks to all the people who have fav-ed and alerted so far!**

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><p>Somehow Matthew found himself within a small storage closest, trying to control his raging emotions. Luckily there were several boxes of tissues on one of the shelves. He was currently leaning against the door, swearing at himself.<p>

Why couldn't he have figured it all out sooner?!

Why didn't he just demand the truth from the start?!

He should hate France. He should be wishing the worst sort of unfortunate fates possible upon that man. He should have taken Spain's axe and chopped that hose-head in half!

But he doesn't, won't and didn't.

Despite everything, part of him was still in love with the Frenchman.

But that didn't change the fact that Mattie was going to leave. He wiped his eyes once more while beginning to pace around the perimeter of the small room. A pounding headache soon replaced his tears, and the Canadian wished he had some aspirin. "My briefcase..." He muttered in realization.

He always had aspirin in his briefcase.

But it was in the meeting.

Where Francis was.

Canada continued to pace, rubbing his forehead while he did so. As soon as the pain subsided, he would go back to the hotel, grab his things and take the next available plane to Paris. From there he would gather the rest of his belongings... But where would he go? He froze. No one remembered who he was unless he was attached to France's hip, how could he convince anyone to take him in? He would ask America for help, but he would want to be a burden to him and Arthur, and it would just be awkward since those two were married while Matthew was... Matthew was... Well he just was. Single. Unwanted. Alone.

Someone knocked on the storage room door, causing Canada to let out a small squeak of surprise. He heard a string of German and a distinctive _"Kesesese~!"_ from the other side. Matthew tilted his head, he wasn't in the right state of mind to try and translate German, but the voice did sound familiar. The voice then added in English, "I'm not beneath breaking it down!" With a jolt Canada realized that the person was referring to the door, so he opened it as to not entice a fight.

Silver hair and red eyes met his gaze, "There you are, _Matthew!_ And here I was thinking that I was gonna have to use my awesomeness to force you outta there." He placed unnecessary emphasis on the Canadian's name, showing that didn't forget.

"Gilbert?!"

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" The Prussian gave a cocky smile while he held up Mattie's briefcase. "Missing something?"

He flung it into the blonde's chest, who caught it with a small, "Oof!"

A sad silence blossomed between them. Prussia coughed, before asking, "Would it make you feel any better if I said that West is probably ripping that jackass a new one right about now?"

The reminder of France's betrayal hit the blonde like a sucker punch to the stomach, "...No..." Canada muttered.

"Hey! D-Don't cry! Tears are so not awesome!"

"S-S-Sorry..." He covered his face with his free hand, "...I really am pathetic... You shouldn't waste your time trying to comfort me..."

"...What are you talking about? We awesome loners gotta stick together, right?" He slung an arm around the Canadian's shoulders while he pulled out a set of car keys, "I jacked West's Jeep, so I'm gonna drive you back to your hotel, okay?"

"What?"

The albino man laughed, "Well you can't stay here without your stuff!" He began to walk, forcing Matthew to come with him. "C'mon, let's go! Afterwards I can give you an awesome tour of Berlin!"

"I can't."

It was Gilbert's turn to be confused, "Whaddya mean you can't?!"

Mattie shook his head slowly, "I need to get back to Paris before Francis does."

"Ah... I see..." Prussia paused for a moment before grabbing Mattie's arm and starting to run. "The awesome me will help you!"

"H-Hey! Slow down!"

xxxxx

"This the place?" Gilbert asked as they pulled up in front of the hotel.

"_Oui_—Er, I mean, yes."

The Prussian rolled his eyes, "I'll wait out here for ya, make it quick."

They both got out of the car with Mattie running into the lobby and Gilbert simply leaning against the vehicle. The latter then pulled his phone out and dialed. It only took a moment before the call went through and the Prussia began to rapidly speak in his mother tongue.

Three minutes later Matthew returned with his suitcase just as Prussia finished his call. "That's everything?" The Canadian nodded as they both climbed back into Germany's Jeep. Gilbert tucked his phone away. "Just booked your flight, they coincidentally have a plane leaving in an hour, so we better hurry to the airport."

Canada gasped, "You didn't have to!"

"Don't worry about it, I told them to bill Austria," He laughed before opening the car door, "C'mon, can't miss your flight!"

"Uh... Okay..."

The Jeep was put into drive and soon they were out on the highway. The trip was endured in silence until Prussia's phone rang. _"Verdammt..._ that's gotta be West..." He muttered. "Mattie, can you get that? I can't answer it and drive at the same time."

"W-Why not...?"

"West says it isn't safe."

A deep blush graced the Canadian's features, "B-But isn't your phone in your pocket?" And wasn't his pocket dangerously close to his vital regions?

"_Ja,_ just hurry up and get it, West'll be even more pissed if I don't answer." He scooted his hips towards Matthew. The young blonde was petrified with embarrassment but still he reached in and retrieved a small black cellphone. He tried not to think of his violation of the Prussian's personal space as said man ordered, "Put it on speaker." Still flushed, Mattie flipped open the phone and complied. _"Hallo?"_

"_WHERE IS MY CAR?!"_ Ludwig's voice thundered, causing Canada to flinch and cower in his seat, nearly dropping the mobile device. Carefully he held it up to Gilbert and the two brothers began to argue. Matthew's name came up a couple times amidst the shouting, and after several more minutes Germany calmed down and the situation was explained. "May I speak to him?"

"Sure thing West, you've been on speaker phone the entire time."

A string of German insults flowed from the phone before Ludwig took a deep breath, "Canada, I am deeply sorry for your misfortunes; today must have been very stressful for you. Vould you like me to inform your _bruder_ about your vhereabouts?"

"...Yes, but... Please tell England instead, I don't want my location getting back to Francis..."

The voice on the other line gained a steely edge, "I can assure you that France is in no state to be pursuing anything at the moment. I vill make sure England knows of your plans."

"Thank you... And... I'm sorry..."

"You have nothing to apologize for,_"_ The call ended.

Prussia frowned, "That's odd, West never stops so abruptly..." He shrugged. "Oh well..." Slowly Canada closed the small phone and covered his face. Tears began trickling down. The sadness and uselessness he felt earlier threatened to consume him.

"...This is all my fault..."

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT!" Gilbert's heated response took the Canadian by surprise. "There is no way you're responsible for this, so cut it out!"

"...I'm sorry..."

"For the love of—" Prussia let out a growl, becoming fed up with the other man's passive nature, "Stop apologizing for everything!"

"I-I'm..." Canada realized that he was about to apologize yet again, so he quickly clamped his mouth shut.

They both fell quiet after that. Prussia drove and fumed while Mattie looked down to his hands. Eventually they pulled into the parking lot of the Berlin International Airport. There was an awkward silence as the car stopped, causing the albino to let out a sigh, "Look, I'm sorry for getting mad at you... It wasn't very awesome of me." Gilbert avoided looking at Mattie as he got out of the Jeep and pulled the luggage out of the back of it.

"...It's fine..." Mattie replied, "I deserved it for being so mopey."

The Prussian let out a longer sigh as he walked over to where Canada was standing, "First," He threw the briefcase at his companion. "Stop being so passive-aggressive, it's kinda pissing me off. Second," He lightly smacked the Canadian's leg with the suitcase, "You have every right to be mopey at the moment."

Canada tilted his head at the odd orders, "But what if me being mopey also constitutes as being passive-aggressive?"

Red eyes met blue for a long moment, before Prussia shook his head, "Let's just get you on your damn plane already..."

xxxxx

Gilbert knew a few of the workers at the airport, so he was allowed to wait with Matthew until his plane was called. "Hey... Can I ask you something?"

Canada, who had been staring off into space at this point, jumped slightly at the question, "Wha...? Oh sure... What is it?"

"Well... Everyone knows what went down with France two nights ago, but I wanna know your side of the story. How were things with you that day?" The Prussian hastily added, "Of course if you don't wanna answer I'm awesome with that..."

"Things were... Normal for me..." Mattie looked down at his hands, "The day went normally, and France left the house around seven. He said that he would be home within the hour... But one hour became two, two became four... I stayed up until nearly five in the morning waiting for him..." He sniffed, "I woke up to breakfast in bed and roses... I should have known right then, how could I be so stupid?!" He shook his head, "He always buys roses when he screws up, because he knows their my favorite... He always won me back with roses..."

"Flight eight-twenty to Paris, now boarding!"

Prussia stood up, "That's you, isn't it?"

"Y-Yeah..." Canada followed suit and took a few steps towards the gate. "...Gilbert?"

"What?"

Mattie turned back and embraced the albino. "Thank you..." Surprisingly enough, the other man hugged back. The arms of the Prussian felt warm and strong , and yet again tears threatened to spill from Matthew's eyes. They released each other and with a wave he departed to the boarding gate.

Gilbert waved back, a stunned look on his face. Slowly he went back to his brother's car and sat there for a good ten minutes, trying to register what he thought in that moment of farewell. There was a strange kind of beauty within that sad parting smile. That, and Prussia realized that he wanted nothing more than to kick France in the vital regions for breaking Matthew's heart.

But the thing that really stumped him was that he couldn't figure out why.

* * *

><p><strong>You know, the more I write, the more I'm starting to like Prussia. He is, for the lack of a better word, awesome.<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay! Chapter four! I hope you all enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

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><p>The plane touched down a little after five 'o clock, and Canada reached France's chateau before six. He was tearing through drawers and the closet, trying to grab everything that was his. He dashed to the bathroom and threw all of his toiletries into a small bag before tossing in into another suitcase. One entire case was completely filled with his books. The last things packed were several photo albums, some dating back to when the camera was first invented, along with some pictures of portraits the were at least a century older. Mattie flipped to the back of the most recent album, where a large picture of Francis and he was posted. When was this from? It was dated about a month ago and showed the two happily siting on a bench. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, France had his arms around the Canadian as to keep him warm, and the young man was holding a bouquet of roses.<p>

Ah, now he remembered. This photo was from Valentine's day. With a flourish it was ripped in two, and Mattie finished packing. He brought the shredded picture downstairs to throw it away, but stopped when he saw the vase of roses on the kitchen counter. He placed the last suitcase down and walked over to the red arrangement. He reached out a hand to pick a single bloom, but drew back in pain. A thorn pricked his finger, causing blood to ooze lazily from his fingertip. How ironic. He swept the vase off the counter in retaliation, feeling satisfied when he heard it shatter. He grabbed one half of the torn photo and shoved it into his pocket, while taking the other half and scribbling a note onto it. He let it drift amongst shatter glass and rose petals before picking up his last piece of luggage.

The house phone went off. Cautiously Canada walked over to it and read the caller ID... England?

Matthew immediately picked up, "Hello?"

"C-Canada?! Oh thank God you haven't left the house yet..."

"Is something wrong?"

Arthur sounded very flustered, "Well, yes! You didn't tell anyone where you're going to stay! Do you even have a place to stay?!" The long silence was enough of an answer. "Look, try to get on the Eurotunnel Shuttle, I'm sure you can get a spot on the ten 'o clock run. Do you know how to get to London from there?"

"Yeah, I think so..."

"Okay, you'll be staying with us for a while," Us meant him and America, Mattie noticed that he wasn't given a choice in the matter, "The spare key's hidden in the potted plant like it always is, but if you have trouble finding it I'm sure one of the fairies can let you in, they're such helpful little dears..." The young blonde rolled his eyes at the word fairies, "You know what, stay at a hotel in Kent tonight it's much too dangerous to be driving that late—"

Matthew cut him off, "It's only a two hour drive from Le Shuttle, I'll be fine."

"Y-You sure?"

"Positive."

Goodbyes were exchanged and the phone was hung up, the car was packed and pulled out of the driveway. That house had been home to him for almost two years... A strange sense of abandonment arose as Canada's car hit the highway. He was alone again.

The drive was slow and monotonous, Canada stopped twice for coffee, lamenting that he didn't have any syrup with him and praying he didn't have a caffeine crash in the morning. He ran into some trouble with the customs check at the Eurotunnel, but after he disclosed his status as a nation things rolled along smoothly. Around eleven thirty he was on the highway again, fighting his fatigue. Every so often his car would swerve dangerously, jolting him back to consciousness. Luckily there were no cops on the road, or he would have surely been pulled over. Miraculously the Canadian staggered through the front door of England's Victorian styled mansion in one piece. He decided against unpacking and settled for dragging himself towards the nearest couch, which happened to be in the living room. He collapsed on top of it, and sleep took him instantaneously.

xxxxx

_Ding-dong!_

Canada's eyes fluttered open, then closed once more.

_Ding-dong, ding-dong!_

With a groan he sat up. Wait a minute, where was he? Right... He was crashing at England's...

The doorbell rang again, forcing Matthew to stumble over to the door. He fumbled with the lock and pulled it open.

No one was there.

_Ding-dong!_ The doorbell chimed. The confused Canadian looked to see a yellow ball of fluff pressing the button that rang the bell. It was a bird, no bigger than a fist, and it held a note rolled up in its beak. "Hi there!" Mattie greeted, holding his hand out to the little bird, "What's a tiny fella like you doing in a big place like this?" The bird flew over, dropping the note in his hand before roosting on his head, peeping merrily. "O-Okay then, if that's how you want to do things..." He went back inside, hoping that the bird didn't make a mess of his hair or decided to fly around the house. Arthur would throttle him if anything happened to the furniture. After a bit of foraging Canada tore up a slice of bread on a plate and set a small bowl of water on the kitchen table. The chick happily flew down from its perch and began pecking at the food. Matthew then decided to look at the note. "It's... Addressed to me?" He asked incredulously. The bird chirped loudly in response, as if to confirm it.

'_MATTIE!'_ The letter began, _'I overheard England and America saying that you were staying at their place and I wanted to see if you got in okay, isn't that awesome of me? So write back and let me know how you're doing! Just give the reply to Gilbird, he knows where to find me.' _

"Gilbird?" The yellow bird chirped in recognition, "That's you...?" The bird whistled a happy tune and sat on the edge of the water bowl and began using it as a makeshift birdbath. Canada laughed, "...Well aren't you clever!" He smiled and returned to the note.

'_...And don't start worrying about him struggling on the trip back, Gilbird's the most awesome bird on this planet! He can handle anything! DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE AWESOMENESS THAT IS GILBIRD!'_ Was it really necessary for the Prussian to restate that in caps? The next line was scribbled out, but when scrutinized the words 'France,' 'hospital,' and 'deserved it,' could barely be read. It was replaced with, _'So, yeah, write back.' _The message was signed,_ 'Always Awesome, Gilbert.' _And at the very bottom:

'_P.S. You should smile more often,'_ It was in a very hurried, fast script with words so cramped and sloppy he either had a seizure when the pen was in his hand or he wrote it on impulse and set the message off as to avoid the urge to cross it out.

But why would Prussia ask him to smile?

The Canadian scrounged up a pencil and a piece of stationary (floral patterned, really England?). And carefully formulated a reply.

'_Dear Gilbert—_' No, that sounded too formal, so he just settled with, _'Gilbert, I arrived at England's around one in the morning, and I woke up about ten minutes ago, (it's noon in London). If you ever decided to go on a road trip across part of Europe, be sure to bring lots of coffee. Physically, I'm fine. Mentally... Let's not go there...'_ He surprised himself with the openness in his writing, and how comfortable he was telling Prussia these things. Perhaps they were kindred spirits, or as the albino had said, "Loners sticking together." Canada resumed his response.

'_You kinda mentioned Francis, or well, attempted to. How is he? I know I shouldn't ask, but I can help worrying about him... Also, I want to let you know that I really appreciated your kindness towards me after the whole fiasco at the meeting. It may sound kind of stupid, but it means a lot when someone even acknowledges me, let alone do all that you have.'_ The pencil wavered for a moment, _'...This question is probably going to sound even stupider, but does this mean we're friends? Hope to hear back from you soon, Matthew Williams.'_

The Canadian rolled up the note and on cue Gilbird fluttered up from the water bowl and snatched the note in his beak. "You be careful, I don't want you getting hurt for my sake." He followed the chick to the nearest window and opened it. Out like a little yellow comet Gilbird flew, past the trees and out of sight. "...Wow..." Mattie whispered in amazement. "...Do not underestimate Gilbird..." He shut the door and went back to the kitchen. Again and again he reread Prussia's note, lingering on that crossed out line, and the post script. He put it down with a sigh and went back out front to unload his car, easily hefting the bags up to one of the guest rooms. As he returned to the kitchen to find something to eat his cellphone went off. Hastily Canada pulled it out of his pocket, causing something else to fall out as well. He looked at the caller ID and recoiled.

It was France.

France was calling him.

What.

The.

_Hell?_

The phone was gripped rather tightly, and the young blonde began to hyperventilate. Should he answer? Let it go to voicemail? Ignore it completely? After a whirlwind of intense deliberation the phone fell out of his hand with a clatter, and he simply walked away.

Fifteen minutes later he returned to four voicemails and three unread messages.

Cautiously Mattie picked up the device, like he expected it to burn him or to just spontaneously combust. He looked at his texts:

'_Mathieu please answer me—'_

Delete.

'_You weren't supposed to find out like—'_

Delete.

'_Please... I lo—'_

Canada was afraid he was going to jam the buttons from pressing them too hard. Expecting worse he moved on to voicemail. He slumped against the nearest wall, his free hand grabbing a fistful of hair in frustration.

"_You have four new messages, to play your messages, press one."_ Message playback.

"Don't hang up. Don't delete this message. Hear me out, _please!"_ Francis's voice was desperate. "Mathieu Williams. _Mon Mathieu... Mon amour..._ Please, please try to understand me. I made a mistake, a horrible mistake. I am a detestable man, not worthy of beholding your wonder." The Frenchman began to ramble about how beautiful he thought Mattie was in a mixture of French and English. "But... If you could ever find it in your heart to take me back... I will be waiting, at... our home... Please, do not let this not be our final farewell. _Je t'aime..."_

The next message began to play. "'Sup Mattie? It's America! England wanted me to call and see if you're at the house yet, and he told me to tell you that we'll be home sometime tomorrow morning, okay? So just hang tight and relax! Make yourself at home, see ya soon!" Message erased.

"Erm... Bartholomew? No that's not right... Cambodia? No... Well, um, anyway this is Arthur," There was a sigh, "Might as well cut to the chase... If you need someone to... Talk to about the fro— France's behavior, I'll try and help you the best I can. That is what family is for, right? Call back and let me know how you're feeling, or I'll just talk to you tomorrow?" Message erased.

"Oh, it's um... It's Arthur again... I know I shouldn't be saying to you, but I believe that it would be best for both of us if I get this off my chest. You know I don't like that bloody frog—France, his name is France... Sorry. I know he's going to try and win you back, and I know from experience how charming he can be when he wants something. Don't fall for it, Marcus—_Dammit,_ that's not your name, is it? Blimey... I am so sorry. Erm... Look, I know I am in no position to tell you what's best for you... But you really should consider moving on. So, um... Goodbye then." Message erased.

The final voicemail was from an unfamiliar number, but just as Matthew was going to listen to it, that same number called back. "...Hello?"

"Hello, is this Mr. Francis Bonnefoy?"

Canada flinched, "No, may I ask who is calling?"

"Stacy Parker, I'm a travel agent."

He hit his head in realization, "Ms. Parker! This is Matthew. Matthew Williams."

"Oh! Why didn't I see your name first...?" There was the sound of shuffling papers. "Here is it... The passengers were arranged alphabetically, sorry... You paid for two tickets from Paris to Quebec on the fifteenth, correct?"

"_Oui,"_

"Well I'm sorry to inform you that the plane scheduled for that flight is experiencing extreme technical difficulties, and we have no replacement planes on standby. Also there is supposed to be a major storm on that day and it was decided that it would be in the best convenience of the passengers if the flight was cancelled."

"Ah, I see. Thank you."

"Now would you like the tickets refunded or would prefer to schedule another flight in exchange?"

He was quiet for several long moments. "Could I get back to you on that?"

"Of course sir, just call me back at this number when you've decided."

"Thank you so much, bye."

He quickly went back to his voicemail, and listened to the final message which said, in essence, the same thing. He erased that before listening to France's again. "...Mathieu Williams. _Mon Mathieu... Mon amour..."_

He was using that voice, that special voice he used for his _lovers._ Matthew would have like to think that it was his special voice, but he knew the cold truth.

I love you.

I need you.

I miss you.

I want you back.

That is what the voice cooed softly into the Canadian's ear. He listened again, trying to find any note of insincerity, the slightest indication that it was all false... The third time it played was just for the sake of hearing Francis's voice.

The phone was set down on the table and Canada let out a shaky breath. He looked down and saw a scrap of paper on the ground. Did that come from his pocket? He reached down and picked it up. It was the other half of the picture he tore up in Paris. He flipped it over, curious as to what portion of the photo he held. Francis smiled up at him, his expression cheerful and warm. The last words of the message played in his head:

_Je t'aime._

_No you don't..._ Matthew thought. _If you did you would have told me what happened..._ He sank down to a sitting position. _If you loved me that would have never happened..._ He felt angry, used, and betrayed. Hurt, scared, and lonely. After carefully tucking the picture away Canada forced himself to stand and walk upstairs. He entered the guest bedroom, took off his glasses, and flopped down, face-first, onto the mattress.

He lost it then and there.

For nearly an hour he screamed into those pillows, bitter, confused tears spilling from his eyes.

xxxxx

Matthew didn't know when he had fallen asleep, but he did know that it was about six when he woke up. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt then went to take a shower. With that squared away he went downstairs and looked through the fridge, hoping to find some dinner.

Instead all he found was old McDonald's and England's cooking. After some digging around in the pantry he discovered a can of soup, so he fished a pot out of one of the cabinets and made that (he hoped that is wasn't rude to do so, America did tell him to make himself at home, after all). His phone was still on the kitchen table when he sat down. He stared at it for what seemed like an eternity before picking it up and dialing the travel agent that called earlier.

"Hello, this is Stacy Parker, here to assist with all your traveling needs! How can I help you?"

"Hey Ms. Parker, this is Matthew from earlier. I've made up my mind about those tickets."

"Okay, what would you like to do with them, sir?"

"I'd like to exchange them both for one ticket to... Wait, how far in advance can I book a flight?"

"Up to two weeks."

"Then I'll take a flight on the twenty-second from London to Ottawa."

"Okay, I'll make sure that it is arranged, and you'll just get refunded for the other ticket."

"That's fine, _merci."_

He hung up and put the phone back down. A week. He had just given himself a week to stay at Arthur's. Then he was going home. Not to France, but to his real home. It would be nice to get away from everyone for a while, and no one would know he was gone.

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><p>"<strong>These places and these faces are getting old... So I'm going home...<strong>

**I'm going home."**

**IDK if it's 'places and faces' or 'faces and places,' but I was thinking of this song when I wrote this! Poor Mattie... I cosplayed as him at a recent anime convention, and I got so much "Who?" abuse, LOL (I even had a sign on my sweatshirt that said, "Who are you?" "I'm Canada" and "...Who?" It was a riot!)**

**Reviews make an authoress happy! And since I forgot to put it on the last one (and received no feedback as a result) 5 Reviews = Chapter 5 being posted! Thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

Francis hobbled through the threshold of his chateau with a pained groan. He was certain if he wasn't a nation he would be dead at this moment. After Canada had left that meeting it had turned into an all out brawl: Spain, Germany, and America verses France. Thankfully weapons had been forgone for fists in that war, but that didn't change the fact that the Frenchman was beaten to a pulp. He was just returning from the hospital, sporting numerous contusions and a sprained wrist; plus he was still sore from when Prussia tracked him down and randomly kicked him in the vitals. First thing he did was check his phone, still no reply from Matthew.

He tossed his bag aside and leaned against the nearest wall. _"_Mathieu! I'm 'ome!"

No response.

"Mathieu? Are you there?"

No one answered him.

"_Non..."_ Despite the pain he was in, Francis ran up the stairs. "Mathieu?!"

The master bedroom was in chaos, drawers had been pulled out and emptied, the closet door was wide open, hangers littered the floor. "It... Cannot be..." He limped back downstairs, surprised at himself.

Had he really been banking on the fact that the boy would be home?

Mattie was gone.

"Hm... 'E can't 'ave gone far," Francis mused as he walked about his home. "Just get some more roses, perhaps a nice gift, a perfect crafted monologue and voila! 'E is mine once more!" He chuckled, "Mathieu... You silly little boy..." Something in the corner of the room caught his eye. It was a bookcase.

An empty bookcase.

Matthew's bookcase.

The last time the Frenchman saw that empty was when Canada broke off their relationship for the first time. Worry began to pool in the older blonde's stomach. Matthew couldn't have gone far... Right?

Francis stumbled into the kitchen, trying to find some hint as to where his Canadian could have gone. It was then he saw the shattered vase on the floor. He spotted the photo fragment, slightly wet and picked it up slowly. Matthew's face was flushed, embarrassed by the bouquet his was holding, but smiling happily nonetheless. The Frenchman flipped it over out of reflex, and his eyes widened in surprise.

There was a note. ...From Matthew? It was written in black pen, a fluid, neat script:

_Did you ever truly love me, or was I just another one of your toys?_

The boy... He couldn't have gone too far... Right?

_...Right?!_

France chuckled once more as he stared at the picture, "Sad child... I will find you and bring you 'ome... You are mine, after all..." He brought it to his lips, smirking, _"Mine, and mine alone."_

xxxxx

A few days later

xxxxx

Canada quickly discovered that life at England's... Was not normal.

For starters, it wasn't a normal day unless there was a screaming match in the living room. Alfred had often done something stupid or forgotten something important, which resulted in said argument. Even worse was when one of Arthur's brothers insisted they come over (even though the couple made it overtly clear that they were not welcome). Those instances normally resulted with England in tears and someone with a black eye. Matthew normally resigned himself to his room, or even to the attic if things got too bad. In all honesty he was content to be invisible if it prevented him from being drawn into any conflicts.

Another thing was food. Like the contents of the fridge he discovered that his only choice of substance was McDonald's or England's cooking. With an internal lament of 'beggars can be choosers,' Canada decided to grin and bear it. Perhaps he could grow to like Chicken McNuggets...

But the list of quirks continued! There would be the odd moment when Mattie would catch Arthur holding vibrant conversations with himself, or Alfred would be mindlessly absorbed in his video games. Yet, the absolute worst would be when Canada witnessed a tender moment between the pair, sparking his own envy and loneliness. As expected, they all but forgot he was there, not like Canada made his presence obvious in the first place.

The single spot of sanity within Matthew's day was his correspondence with Prussia via Gilbird. Their letters had become rather lengthy, with Gilbert vehemently declaring their companionship and them discussing nearly every aspect of their lives with one another. Canada learned various tidbits of information about the strange albino, ranging from favorite colors to random bits of family information. Mattie in turn told Prussia the same things about himself; the Canadian was surprised by how he had nearly told his life story in the span of five days. On the back of the most recent message a phone number was scrawled, along with a note:

_Please just call him already, he won't shut up about you - Germany_

After blushing and fumbling to find his own phone, Mattie discovered that Germany had given him Prussia's cell phone number. The young blonde turned an even darker shade of red as he recalled his last encounter with Gilbert's phone. They talked for hours on end, thought Gilbird was still sent over with a note everyday (surprisingly, such an amount of traveling was normal for the small bird; still, Canada feared for its health). The one strange thing was that the Prussian absolutely refused to answer any questions related to France. Canada knew that Gilbert was friends with Francis, but then again he was also friends with Antonio... So perhaps Prussia had taken the Spaniard's side and refused to speak of the perverted Frenchman because of it? And Italy was dating his brother after all... Several times Matthew had brought up France, and each time Gilbert would ignore the question, forcibly change the subject or find an excuse to hang up. Maybe he didn't want the Canadian to know; did Mattie even _want_ to know?

That small problem aside, Matthew thoroughly enjoyed speaking with the Prussian.

"So how long are you gonna stay in London?" Gilbert randomly asked one day. "You don't plan on staying there forever, right?"

"No!" Mattie exclaimed, "Of course I don't!"

"Sheesh Birdie, I'm just kidding! Don't ruffle your awesome little feathers over it!" The albino laughed at his joke and new nickname for his friend.

"I am not a bird!" Each word was said forcefully, but Canada blushed and smiled at the endearment nonetheless.

"Sure you aren't... Birdie."

With a melodramatic groan Matthew plopped down on his bed, "I just can't win against you, can I?"

"_Kesesese~_ Against the power of the most awesome me, there can be no victory!"

The young blonde paused for a long moment, "You read _Lord of the Rings?"_

"Saw the movies; they were almost as awesome as me. ALMOST."

Out of habit Canada glanced at the calendar on the bedside table. It was the twenty-first. With a jolt he realized that his flight was less than twenty-four hours away.

Gilbert laughed again, "So seriously Matt, when are you gonna get a place of your own?"

Strangely enough, the Canadian's voice got caught in his throat. A long silence stretched on.

"Do you... Not have anywhere else to go? ...Hey, are you still there?!" After a few more moments he began swearing at his phone in German, then hung up. Slowly Mattie sat up, his brow creasing with worry. He glanced around the room, most of his stuff had remained packed away in his suitcases. With a sigh he began to journey downstairs to make sure he didn't leave anything behind. He nearly ran into America as he entered the living room.

"Whoa there!" Alfred grabbed his brother by the shoulders to stop them from colliding. "What's the big rush? You going somewhere?" Blues eyes met one another in a wave of confusion. "...What's wrong?"

The meek twin forced a warm smile, "I'm fine, what are you talking about?"

Alfred gave Matthew a strange look, "You've been acting strange ever since you've gotten here... And Artie's been getting worried." The way he looked away at that moment denoted the American's own concern.

"Why didn't call me out on it then?" Canada demanded weakly, "Doesn't a hero always take the direct approach?"

His brother flinched at the thinly veiled jab, "Well I thought that since your normally... Well..."

"Don't be afraid to say it."

America let out a sigh, "Since you're normally one your own I told Arthur that I thought that it would be best to let you work things out by yourself..."

Matthew pushed roughly past his brother and went into the laundry room, in order to check and make sure he didn't leave any clothes behind.

"Mattie..." His brother stated apologetically. The Canadian found a small bundle of his shirts in the dryer; he began folding them roughly. "Matt?" He didn't respond. "Matthew!" The shirts were stacked neatly on top of one another. "Answer me dammit!"

"...Just because I'm always alone doesn't mean I want to be..." He shoved past Alfred once more and returned to his room, taking care to slam the door. He placed the shirts in one of the suitcases situated at the foot of the bed. Other than that he was pretty sure that everything was packed. There was a soft knock at the bedroom door. "Go away America!" Normally he would have felt guilty for using such a tone and command when it was his brother's home, but at the moment he didn't care. Regardless, the door opened; Canada whipped around to hurl a particularly venomous insult at his brother and froze when he saw that it was not his twin, but England standing across from him. All of the young blonde's anger quickly evaporated into shame and embarrassment.

"Would you like some tea?" The older man offered the tray that he had been carrying. On it was a teapot, two small cups, and a bowl of sugar. "I find that a cup or two is rather calming when I'm upset," The Briton set it on top of the nearby dresser.

"...S-Sure... Thanks..."

Arthur prepared to cups and they both sat on the bed, "I'm afraid we're out of milk, I'll need to go grocery shopping tomorrow."

"...Okay..."

They sipped in an awkward silence. Eventually England stated, "Your bags are packed..." His voice didn't question or accuse, it was merely observing.

"They never were _un_packed," Matthew chuckled humorlessly.

Arthur 'Hmm-ed' thoughtfully in response. "You do know you're welcome to stay as long as you need to, right?"

"Yes, and I can't thank you enough for giving me a place to stay but..." Mattie shook his head, "I don't belong here."

England got up and put his teacup back on the tray. "I'm sorry that you feel that way... Is it because of—?"

"It's not your fault... It's not Al's fault either..." The northern nation got up mimicked England's earlier action. "It's just that... I feel like a such stranger no matter what I do or where I go... I need to figure out who I am."

"But that's easy, you're... Canada, right?"

Mattie smiled at the fact that Arthur had gotten it right, "I know who Canada is supposed to be, but I need to find out what kind of person Matthew Williams is."

"Ah..." England nodded in understanding, before moving to hug his brother-in-law, "I trust that you'll find what you're looking for..." He released him and took a step back. "You're going to leave." Again his tone was neither questioning nor accusing, just observant.

"I never planned on staying long."

Arthur was about to press for more details when a smoke detector went off, they both froze for a split second. "_MY SCONES!"_ England shrieked before spiriting towards the stairs with Mattie hot on his heels. When they arrived in the kitchen they saw that America had already wretched open the oven and was unloading a fire extinguisher into it.

After several minutes of sheer panic and nasty burns the three worked together to open all of the windows and regain control of the oven. It took nearly a half hour for the smell to fade and another for Alfred and Arthur to stop screaming at one another. Such a cheerful couple, aren't they?

During this time Canada stepped out onto the front porch and made arrangements for a cab to come pick him up in the early morning. He returned to the living room to find America and England in a rather 'passionate' embrace. After a moment of pure awkwardness Arthur stiffly apologized as the Canadian fled back to his usual spot in the attic.

He pulled out his phone and began to text Prussia, _'Sorry 4 not calling back sooner, phone died.'_

'_No prob! The awsm me 4gives U! Sup?'_

'_Well... England almost burnt the house down.'_

The albino called immediately after receiving that message, "What the hell do you mean he almost burnt the house down?! Are you okay?!" His voice was furiously... Concerned?

"...Erm, y-yeah... Other than a couple of burns on my hands I'm pretty good... Al got the worst of it because, you know, he just _had_ to be the hero and all..." Canada let out a nervous laugh, "England was trying to make scones..."

There was a pause, then Gilbert muttered, "Leaving that man alone in a kitchen should be considered a war crime..." Mattie couldn't contain himself and burst out laughing, which coaxed the Prussian to join in. The mirth passed as soon as it came, leaving them in a comfortable sort of calm. "Heh, guess there's not much to talk about now, eh Birdie?" He then suddenly asked, "Hey, how much of a time difference is there between Berlin and London?"

"An hour I think..."

"Well then why don't you..." Prussia trailed off. "Nah, never mind..."

Matthew tilted his head, "What is it?"

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Gil," Mattie surprised himself with sudden nickname, "Tell me."

"I told ya, it's not important..."

"Please?" The Canadian dragged out the word, genuinely interested in hearing what Gilbert was going to say.

"Not awesome, Birdie, don't be using your cute voice against me!"

Cute? Prussia thought that voice was cute? Mattie bit his lip, why was he suddenly embarrassed? Francis had always called him beautiful... But never cute. Why did it make such a difference? During a rather thoughtful silence Canada wracked his brains for the proper way to say something he knew would catch his friend off guard.

"_Bitte..."_ He pleaded, trying to play up his 'cute' voice.

There was a clatter on the other line.

He made Prussia drop his phone.

"Oh no... D-Did I pronounce that wrong?! I-I'm sorry if I insulted you!"

A few seconds passed, "When _the hell _did you learn German?"

"During the World Wars I had to translate for America, he didn't bother learning the language so I did in order to spare England a couple of headaches."

"Ya probably spared West a few as well," Prussia then muttered something under his breath.

The blonde strained to listen the asked what the albino had said in German, and followed it with, "...Did I say that right?"

"Yeah but..." Gilbert sighed, "It's your voice that's not right..."

"...What?!" Matthew felt offended by the comment.

"Don't get me wrong, you speak awesomely, but... It just sounds so _weird_ coming from you..."

Canada let out an angry huff, "Well let's hear you speak French then!"

"I-I don't know any—"

"...C'mon, Francis had to have taught you something!"

"That bastard taught me how to pick up chicks, and that was it."

"So you do know some French?"

"_Ja..."_

"So say something!"

Prussia let out an angry growl, then proceeded to whisper various phrases he had learned from the country of love.

Matthew was left in a shell-shocked silence, blushing darkly. "...You're... just as twisted as he is..."

The response he got was rather sharp, "Don't you _dare_ compare me to him... I was just in Paris looking for a good time. He has no excuse for what he did!"

Oh hell no.

Mattie was not going to talk about that. Not here, not now, and certainly not with Gilbert, "I have to go."

"Huh? But Mat—"

_Click._

"Well, that's one way to end a conversation."

Canada turned to see America standing a few feet away from the door of the folding ladder that led to the attic. Alfred walked over, hands in his pockets, "I had a feeling I'd find you up here." He sat down next to his brother, "Artie normally comes here when he wants to be left alone, because he knows that I think this place is creepy as hell..." The self-proclaimed hero suppressed a shiver, with his voice edging towards hysteria, "Let's go back downstairs, okay?!" He grabbed Canada's arm and all but dragged him back down the ladder.

Safely back in the living room Alfred suggested that they go make a proper dinner, which resulted in him being heard by England and a burnt scone nearly being shoved down the American's throat. Mattie let out a sigh and suggested that they order a pizza, but they didn't hear him, so he simply went to the phone and ordered it himself. He let out a small chuckle as he hung up the phone and stared at the bickering couple, happy he could solve at least _one_ problem.

xxxxx

The next morning...

xxxxx

Matthew quietly slipped out the front door with his the last of his bags in hand. Now that he looked at it, he didn't have much. It took only four suitcases to carry his entire life from France. He set them down on the curb and began to wonder how things have been going on in his home country. It had been ages since his last saw Kuma... Kuma... What was that bear's name again? Anyway, he began to bubble with excitement at the thought of being back home again.

Now all he had to do was wait.

The cab didn't take long to arrive, and there was little traffic because of the early hour. He graciously thanked the cabbie as he got off and entered the airport. Before he knew it he was in his seat and the plane was taking off. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was quickly replaced with anticipation. Seven hours until the plane landed.

Seven hours and he would be home.

* * *

><p><strong>What will France do now that he has discovered Canada's disappearance? What will happen when Mattie gets home? And where exactly does Prussia fall in the scheme of things? Favorite, Alert, Review, and stay tuned to find out!<strong>

**5 Reviews = Next Chapter!**


	6. Chapter 6

Recently Prussia had taken to the odd habit of laying on the roof when he was bored, and who could blame him? He had good reception there, the weather was nice, and it was the perfect spot to wait for Gilbird.

It was, in a word, awesome.

He checked the time on his phone, it was half past two and Gilbird wasn't back yet... Normally the awesome little ball of fluff would be home with Mattie's response by now... Gilbert dialed Mattie's number and cursed loudly when he got the answering machine. The albino hung up, not wanting to leave a message. He sat up and looked in every which direction, trying to spot a small dot of yellow against the blue sky.

Was the Canadian really mad at him?

Prussia folded his arms behind his head and let himself fall back onto the roof with a light thud. Truth be told, he had a soft spot for the blonde; it was nice to have someone other than West to talk to; it was nice to have someone who cared. But, as with most people, Prussia had then opened his big un-awesome mouth and pissed Mattie off. The albino really needed to learn how to think before he spoke and not go off on people like he did on Mattie yesterday. Sure France was a bastard—that went without saying—yet Gilbert had no right to open that particular can of worms.

Mattie _had_ to be upset with him after that.

At that moment a familiar chirping met the Prussian's ears, "Gilbird!" He let out a cheerful whoop, and held out his hand for the bird to land. He lighted down and let out a sad whistle. "...What's wrong?"

Gilbird let out a nervous titter and dropped the note clutched in his beak. His owner caught it and opened it. "But this is..."

What the Prussian held was the note he sent Mattie after his friend had hung up on him. _'I'm sorry about the whole language thing, you speak good German, and if you really want to know what I was going to ask earlier, it was about you staying in London. I'm guessing that you'll get tired of staying there after a while and I was wondering that once you do, you could come stay in Berlin with me. I'm sure West wouldn't mind since he's been spending a lot of time in Venice lately with Feli... They just got back from a trip but Feli normally shares a bed with West, so you can take the guest room we have here. So write back or call me and I'll arrange a flight for you, it'll be awesome!'_

Written on the bottom of the note were two separate replies, _'WHERE THE HELL IS MY BROTHER AND WHY HAVE YOU TAKEN HIM?! I SWEAR IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM—'_ It looked as if the paper had been roughly snatched away from the first writer, which lead into the second message, _'Is,'_ There were several scribbles of incorrect names, _'Matthew with you? He left this morning without telling us where he was going and America is being an over reactive, worrying git. If he is with you, please have him to call this number - England.' _

The Prussian rolled his eyes as he called England's cellphone. "Hello?" The Briton's voice was confused, "Who is this?"

"The awesomeness that is known as Prussia!"

"Oh..."

The was a pause, then they both simultaneously asked, "Where's Canada?!"

"I thought he was with you!" Arthur shouted.

Gilbert shot back, "Well I thought he was supposed to be with you!"

"But your note clearly was asking otherwise!"

"Mattie never responded to me! Gilbird couldn't find him!"

"Who's Gil...?" There was a small, "Oh," Of realization then an annoyed sigh, "...I should have expected as much from you."

"And what's that suppose to mean?!"

"Tch... Never mind, do you know where Matthew went or not?!"

"No, and he's not answering his phone..."

An eerie hush fell upon them. Tentatively, England asked, "You don't think that... He could have gone back to France?"

The albino couldn't explain the shiver of terror that coursed through him at the thought. "No... Mattie wouldn't do such a thing... Not voluntarily." The Canadian being taken against his will, that was an even scarier thought. Suddenly, Prussia concluded, "I'm going to go find him!"

"But he just disappeared without a trace! He didn't leave anything here that—!"

"I'm going to find him!" Gilbert forcefully repeated.

"How?" He could practically hear the scowl in the Briton's voice, "What if... What if he doesn't want us to find him? What if we can't?"

"I'll know the way to find him!"

Arthur's voice turned scathing, "What makes you think you know him so well?!

"The Awesome Me just knows, okay?!"

"Oh, so you suddenly know him better than his own _family—!?"_

"Did Mattie ever tell you how he always feels like an outsider?" An indescribable sort of rage colored the Prussian's words. "Like he shouldn't exist—let alone be a nation? I've felt the same way since I was dissolved! I'm going to find him! I have to be the one who helps him!"

"And why you, of all people?"

"Because I'm sure as hell that no one else will!" He snapped his phone shut and slid into the nearest window. As soon as his boots hit the floor he was running.

On the other end of the line England sat glaring at the wall. "You're not the only one who worries about him," He muttered despite the fact that he knew the Prussian couldn't hear him.

Gilbert grabbed his brother's car keys—Germany _really_ needed to start putting them someplace safe—and almost made it to the door.

Almost.

"You are definitely not doing vhat I think you're doing."

Shit.

Prussia turned to see Ludwig casually leaning against a doorframe. Feliciano was a step or two behind him, a curious expression on his normally cheerful face. "Ve, where are you going?" Shortly after the meeting where had Germany beaten the crap out of a certain Frenchman, Italy had pestered and apologized to the German until finally he was forgiven. Following that Germany had been living with the bubbly brunette and they had returned from said trip a few days ago.

"A friend of mine has gone AWOL, so the awesome me is going to track him down and make sure he's okay!"

Germany nodded in understanding, then frowned, "I'm assuming that it's that same friend you're always talking on the phone to... Vhat vas his name again?"

"Bird—Erm... Mattie."

"Ve, isn't that Mr. America's brother?" Italy chimed in, he smiled while clapping his hands together. "Good choice! I don't see him a lot, but I've heard he's very cute!"

"Wh-What?!" Gilbert held up his hands in a defensive position, "I-It's not like that..."

Ludwig scoffed and muttered something that sounded oddly like, "...Denial..." Which sparked his older brother's indignation.

"West, you and I both know that you don't have room to even _breath_ on that topic!"

"Ve, no fighting!" Feliciano latched himself onto the German's arm, anticipating the aggressive reaction. "Let Gilbert find his friend..."

Ice blue eyes cut into blood red, "You are not taking my car."

"Watch me."

"You're really going to make this difficult?"

"Look," Gilbert folded his arms, "I gotta find Birdie before France does!"

"Birdie?" His younger brother arched an eyebrow at the endearment, "You haven't called anyone that since—"

"Shut up West,"

Italy, ever so naive, asked, "Wait... Why is he using the same name he used for Miss Hungary...?" He trailed off under the intensity of Prussia's glare. the brunette yanked Ludwig in front of himself, "Ve... I-I surrender!"

Gilbert turned his back on them, "You don't know what it's like, to have someone say 'I love you' and then stab you in the back. You don't know how it feels when you've been betrayed."

Ludwig was quiet for the longest time, thinking over what his brother had said. He looked from the small nation at his side to his brother, then let out a long sigh, the same sigh he normally used before giving into some odd request of Italy's, "Do you even have the _slightest_ idea of where he might be?"

The Prussian turned back slowly, his stance thoughtful. He vaguely remembered talking about traveling with Matthew, and about their favorite places to visit. "Gah... What was that one place he kept talking about...?!" He scratched the back of his head, were they even talking about traveling? Maybe they were discussing countries... No, it was the weather. Matthew would talk about how the winters were harsh in this one place, but he didn't mind because he loved the snow, and that the climate was mostly sunny for the rest of the year. Wait... Maybe they were describing countries—their own countries. They debated which of their capitals would make a better vacation spot— "Ottawa!" The Prussian suddenly blurted out. "He told me once that if there was any place he'd like to be right at that moment, it'd be Ottawa!" Gilbert punched the air, _"Kesesese~_ I am so awesome for remembering that!"

Feliciano leaned out from behind his hiding place, "Ve! Ludwig and I will help you find your Birdie! Let's go!" He darted upstairs to go pack his things.

"...I'd prefer to go alone..." Gilbert grumbled as his brother clapped him on the shoulder. Germany's grip was firm as he shook his head in resigned defeat.

"You know there's no point in arguing against Feli... We better start packing." He let out a sigh, "And just when I though I could stay home for _once..." _With another sigh the two went to follow the Italian, with Gilbird tittering enthusiastically behind them.

xxxxx

"_With glowing hearts we see thee rise,"_ Matthew stacked his final piece of luggage on his front porch. _"The True North strong and free!"_ He fished out his house keys and put them in the lock, _"From far and wide,"_ The door was pushed open and he began to carry everything inside. _"O Canada, we stand on guard for thee."_ He hummed the rest of his national anthem to himself as he finally unpacked. The house had been kept clean while he was gone, his boss had said that he had sent someone to look after... Kimijura? Kumakichi? Well, the bear was taken care of during the Canadian's absence.

His phone went off, it was Prussia again. Mattie was too busy with his luggage to notice it, and it went to voicemail. After twenty minutes he decided to call his boss and let him know that he was back in the country. The two had a brief discussion concerning the economy and other similar things, and the blonde found out that the next world meeting wouldn't be for three months and that it would be in Moscow. They bade each other farewell and Mattie continued to unpack. Eventually his growling stomach ordered him to go into his kitchen and find dinner. Other than a box of pizza the fridge was bare, so he opened it to find that there were four pieces left. Who had been feeding his bear pizza?! Regardless he heated up two slices and sat down to eat, making a mental note to go food shopping tomorrow.

"Who are you?"

The question came innocently from the living room. Matthew looked to see a fluffy white polar bear cub leaning over the back of the couch, staring directly at him. After several moments Kumajiro repeated the question.

"Who are you?"

His owner's face erupted into a huge smile, "...I'm Canada!"

And with that he knew he was home.

xxxxx

It didn't take too long to figure it all out, just as it didn't take much to get the flight booked, and by the same time the next day it had touched down in the airport. He stepped off with haste, and quickly made his way to the awaiting cab. How long had it been since he had visited? Hopefully the boy did not change his address... He looked out the window to watch the crowded streets fly by. The face of Francis Bonnefoy turned up into a soft smile.

"Mathieu... Come out, come out, where ever you are..."

* * *

><p><strong>France has become rather creepy, hasn't he? <strong>

**Francis: *sad face* Aw... Why must you make me so unlikable?**

**Me: Uh... ENGLAND MADE ME DO IT!**

**Iggy: *rolls eyes* **_**Sure**_** I did...**

**Actually, did I make him seem **_**too**_** creepy? Gah, now I'm paranoid that he might be too creepy, great...**

**And LOL, major 'thank yous' to everyone that has been reviewing! I now officially support TEAM GILBIRD! But, gah, I have some bad news as well... I'm going on a hiatus for the rest of this week and next week because I have finals... *SADFACE* I'm sorry... But hopefully I'll do well and I'll have Ch. 7 up by next Friday! (Certain parts need to be rewritten anyway, so it all works out in the end)**

**Remember to review! Thanks!**


	7. Chapter 7

xxxxx

Twenty-Four Hours Later...

xxxxx

Gilbert thought he was prepared for anything. Only the awesomeness known as Prussia could be so thoroughly prepared for what he believed to be a trans-Atlantic search and rescue mission. Sure, the 'mission' didn't require any special equipment, but it did require a certain sort of awesomeness that the Prussian was quite certain he possessed. Certainly he and his awesomeness alone were prepared for _anything_ this trip could throw at him.

Anything... Except the storm that delayed his flight until tomorrow.

Currently the albino was pacing across the terminal, fuming quietly to himself with Gilbird orbiting his head. Ludwig and Feliciano sat on some nearby chairs, with the former of the two reading a book.

Italy watched their companion stomp back and forth, "Ve, what is Prussia doing?"

The blonde looked to his brother for a second, merely shaking his head and muttering, "Impatient as ever..." Before returning to his book. Germany was rather irritated that the Prussian was behaving in such a manner, and even more irritated by the fact that they had to stay at the airport overnight because Gilbert refused to leave, and judging by Italy's increasing boredom and annoyance it wasn't going to get much better.

The brunette fidgeted in his chair, "Uh, Ludwig...?"

"Vhat?" The question came out sharper than intended. He looked up to see Prussia harassing another member of the ground staff.

The poor man seemed exasperated by the albino, "I'm sorry sir, but all flights have been grounded until the storm passes through!"

Gilbert was about to complain some more about the lack of awesomeness, but his brother grabbed him by the back of his jacket and dragged him away, mumbling an apology to the other man. Germany all but slammed his brother down into a chair, "Vill you knock it off?!" He let out an angry huff, "Don't you think you're vorrying a little too much about this?"

The Prussian glared at his brother and folded his arms, becoming uncharacteristically quiet. Of the many things he did not like, waiting was the chiefest of them, "I still don't understand why you two are coming with me."

Germany sighed, "Because Feli vants to und I vant to make sure you don't do anything stupid." He then added, "Und even if I vasn't going for your sake I'd still go for Feli's. Plus you need all the help you can get..."

Red eyes glared at his brother, demanding to know what he meant by that.

Another sigh, "You vant to find a single person in a city vith a population of over eight hundred thousand vhen you have never been to this city before, have no idea vhere this person lives, and you probably couldn't communicate vith the locals if your life depended on it."

"I could too!"

The younger German brother rolled his eyes, "A little over a third of Ottawa's population speaks French, if your friend is even there."

"He has to be there! Every nation had at least one home in his capitol!"

"And if he's not?" Ludwig turned a page in his book.

"He will!"

"Vhy are you so confident about that?"

"Because I know him!" Prussia growled, "He's actually been pretty homesick for a while; I'm sure he jumped at the awesome opportunity to get away from Francis!" The blonde's expression darkened at the name.

Italy, curious, asked, "Ve, have you talked to him lately?"

Gilbert shook his head, his face expressing disgust, "Of course not! And as far as I know he's been out of contact with everyone since the meeting."

"Good," Germany stated before muttering a few choice words under his breath.

Italy was silent for several long moments, deeply contemplating something. Finally he whispered, "Ve... It wasn't his fault."

The two brothers stared at the Italian incredulously; it was as if they had just heard the man decline pasta. Germany's eyes narrowed as Prussia shouted, "What?!"

Feliciano was one who saw things simply, he couldn't bring himself to hate anyone, regardless of what had happened in the past, he took a deep breath before explaining himself, "Sure... I regret what happened that night and I don't plan on going anywhere near France for a while... But it... It wasn't entirely his fault!" A strain of guilt entered his voice, "Ve, I was the one who said his wine was bad... And he just wanted to prove me wrong..." He spoke faster, nervously picking at a piece of lint on his shirt, "Then we stared drinking and then Romano said he could drink more than Francis and I didn't want to be left out so then it became a contest..." He covered his face in shame, "We were so drunk... We all made mistakes." He placed his hands in his lap and let out a shaky breath, "And now I've made Ludwig mad by talking about it again..."

Said German cupped his boyfriend's cheek in a comforting gesture, "I'm not mad..." Though the tension in his other fist stated otherwise. Prussia blinked in surprise, he thought his brother and Italy had fully patched things up, but there obviously still was a rift or two that needed to heal.

They dissolved into a semi-awkward silence, then Ludwig returned to his book, and Gilbert sent his bird over to entertain Feliciano. The Prussian whipped out his cellphone and tried to call Matthew again, but ended up cursing the terminal's lack of awesomeness and service. Gilbert slumped in his chair and stifled a yawn.

It was going to be a long wait until the plane arrived.

xxxxx

The Next Day...

xxxxx

"And that's the last of it!" Canada cheerfully exclaimed as he shut his closet door, relieved to have finally gotten everything unpacked. He went downstairs and opened the fridge; he and Kumajiro went food shopping the day before. He pulled out some lunch meat and began making a sandwich, "Hey Kuma, you hungry?" Said bear padded into the kitchen and hopped up into a chair and stared at his owner expectantly. Mattie chuckled, "I'll take that as a yes." He quickly assembled the food, placing one plate in front of his pet. "So, I finished unpacking... What do you want to do after lunch?"

The bear stared at him again, "Who...?" He shook his head, deciding not to finish the question, "How about we go for a drive?"

"Hmm... How about a walk instead?" Mattie took a bite of his sandwich, "It'd be nice to get back out on the street again..."

Kumajiro shrugged, "Okay," A walk was normally defined as Canada doing the walking while he was being held. It really didn't matter that much to the Canadian, considering that his bear was pretty light.

They finished their lunch in silence and Canada got up to get his jacket after cleaning up. He scooped his cub into his arms and out they went. The afternoon air was colder than usual, but it was a crisp and fresh kind of cold. Matthew began to wander at his leisure, not really caring where his feet took him. Before he knew it he found himself in a small district with several shops and a café. A small smile spread across his face as observed the people passing by. It was the weekend, so it was a bit more crowded than usual, but he didn't mind. The area normally had a cheerful atmosphere, but something forced Canada to freeze as passed by one of the stores.

Something felt... Off.

Like a foreign presence.

Hastily Matthew surveyed his surroundings once more and then it happened. The crowd seemed to part, revealing—for the briefest of moments—a very familiar face amongst the nameless mass. The Canadian's heart leapt into his throat as he quickly whipped around the corner and pressed himself against the side of the building, eyes wide and body numb from shock. He regretted not going for a drive, oh how he _regretted_ it. It would be so easily just to steal away in his vehicle and speed off at that moment. Matthew took a deep breath and cautiously peered back towards the crowded walkway, hoping, _praying_ that he was just tired and that his eyes were merely playing tricks on him.

No...

There he was again, chatting cheerfully with a passerby. Shoulder length blonde hair was lightly tousled by the chilly breeze, and his blue eyes held both look of a saint and the leer of a predator. He was focused on a young woman beside him... He had not spotted Matthew.

Francis.

Francis was in Ottawa.

One could ask why, but the young blonde already knew the answer. Uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach.

How did France find him so fast?

Certainly Canada's destination wasn't _that_ obvious...

And who_ the hell_ was that girl?

As if Matthew couldn't help it, he snuck another glance. She was a redhead, a pretty one at that. Francis seemed quite enchanted with her. The older man stated something and the girl blushed and smiled in response. Mattie turned on his heel and rushed away, trying to ignore his stinging hurt and confusion. A nagging voice in the back of his mind tried to reason with him.

So what if France was here?

So what if he was talking to a girl?

You left him, remember?

He cheated on you, right?

Mattie hugged his bear tighter and slowed his pace to a casual stroll. Francis shouldn't be here... He has no right...

His conscience countered. But you don't care that he's here. You shouldn't care.

Canada let out a weary sigh as he walked. It made no sense. France was there for Matthew, that was a given—there was no other logical reasoning for the man to be there. But if Francis was so keen on getting his little Mathieu back, wouldn't he think it unwise to flirt with a Canadian citizen in broad daylight? And since when had Francis taken a liking to redheads? Mattie scowled at the idea of his ex moving on so soon. Probably was another whore, just another notch on the Frenchman's bedpost. Canada forced himself to stop, surprised at his train of thought.

Was he...? No, it couldn't be.

It was impossible.

Still that nagging thought, that bitter feeling at the sight of that girl...

Mattie was... _Jealous._

"...You okay?" The voice startled the Canadian, he had all but forgotten about the bear in his arms.

"Yeah..."

"It doesn't sound like you're okay..." Kumajiro turned so he could look at his master, "Wanna head home?"

"Sure..."

It didn't take long until the Canadian's house came into view. He dragged himself up the front steps, feeling worn down from shock and stress. He would have missed the bundle on his doormat if he hadn't nearly stepped on it and if Kumajiro didn't warn him.

Matthew set his bear down and picked it up. "M-Maple..." He muttered as he identified the gift.

A bouquet of roses.

He went inside in a sort of trance, with Kumajiro padding quietly behind him.

_Roses._

Roses meant one thing and one thing only.

The bright blooms continued to stare at him as they were set on the counter. Mattie ran a hand through his hair and tried not to panic. He had forgotten that France knew where he lived... It had been so long since he had visited Canada had hoped the Frenchman had forgotten. An emotional storm began to brew in the young blonde's mind. Maybe he should throw the bouquet out, but then again it would be a shame to waste something so lovely... But they were from _Francis!_ But that did not change the fact that it was a gift. For now they were just left on the counter as Canada grabbed his house phone and plopped himself down on the couch with Kumajiro curling up next to him. Without a moment's hesitation he dialed Prussia number, desperately needing someone to talk to.

"_Please wait while the number you are trying to reach is located..." _There was a long pause,_ "The number you are trying to call is currently unavailable, please hang up and try again later."_

Mattie stared at the phone curiously, Gilbert never ignored phone calls. He petted his bear for a few minutes before picking up his phone again and dialing England's home phone. The Briton did say that Matthew could talk to him, and it would let them know that he was doing okay.

"_Hello, you've reached Arthur Kirkland. Chances are I'm at a meeting or out running some errands, so I can't answer the phone right now. Leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as possible, unless this is Alfred and you've locked yourself out of the bloody house again. For the last time, it's in the potted plant you git!"_

...Beep.

Sadness settled deep within the Canadian's chest, so neither England nor America were home. He decided to leave a message, "Hey... It's Matthew. I wanted to apologize for leaving so suddenly—"

Someone on the other line picked up, _"Mattie?!"_ America's distressed voice cut across him. "That you?!"

"Um... Hi Al."

A great sigh of relief came from the American, "Hold on a sec!" There was a pause, then shouting, "Hey Arthur! Matt's okay!" The sound of the phone shuffling was heard, "Yeah, he's calling from..." Another pause, this time of shock, "Shit... Canada, you're calling from Canada!"

His twin let out a small laugh, amused at his brother's reaction and feeling his spirits rise, "Yep! I'm home!"

"Well you could have given us some warning..."

Matthew rolled his eyes, "You would've tried to stop me, saying something along the lines of 'your brother the hero will help you' or something very similar."

"I would n—" America stopped himself, "Actually... Yeah that does kinda sound like what I'd do..."

"_Kinda?"_ A voice in the background called out.

"Stop eavesdropping, Iggy!"

"How many bloody times do I have to tell you not to call me that?!"

Another laugh escaped the Canadian, "Actually, could I speak to England?"

"Wha? Oh yeah, sure! By the way, we're gonna be in D.C. a couple weeks before the next world meeting, feel free to drop by!"

A nervous chuckle was the only response.

The phone was handed over, "Mark—? No, Matthew, right?" England let out a sigh, "Sorry..."

"It's okay, you're getting better," Absentmindedly Canada scratched Kumajiro behind the ears. A thin veil of despondency settled over the younger blonde as and he let out a small sigh of his own.

"Is everything alright?" There was the sound of a door opening and closing, as if Arthur had stepped out onto the front porch.

"Can I talk to you?"

The Briton let out an amused hum, "Canada, you already are."

Mattie folded one arm under the other and rolled his eyes, "...You know what I mean..."

Warmth and concern colored England's response, "Of course you can, now tell me what's wrong."

It wasn't as easy talking to Arthur as it would have been to Gilbert, but Matthew still was happy that he had someone to share his problems with. He would have confided in his brother, but America's crazy and unrealistic solutions always involved being the hero and someone getting nuked, namely Cuba.

"Are you sure that France sent the roses?" The question held a Briton's underlying fury.

"...It had to be him..." Mattie whispered, "But... Why? ...I just want to get on with my life..."

There were a few seconds of silence, "Promise me you'll be careful," Arthur pleaded.

"I will, don't worry."

The reply eased some of the tension in the older man's voice, "Let us know if anything happens."

"Okay," There was another silence. Canada shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "I guess I'll let you go now..."

"Should I tell Alfred what's going on?"

Mattie thought about it for a moment, "Tell him that I settled in okay, and that I'll see you both in Moscow."

"...Alright then," The faintest hint of uncertainly was in Arthur's voice, "Goodbye."

"Bye..." The young blonde hung up the phone. The heavy sadness from earlier re-rooted itself in his chest. He had expected the conversation with England to help; yes he wanted to forget about Francis and yes he did want to move on, but the cryptic flowers seemed to spark something. An alluring sort of mystique.

But why wouldn't Francis just talk to him directly?

Before the Canadian pursued the thought, the door bell rang. Matthew stood up; careful not to disturb the now sleeping Kumajiro (the bear rolled over and stretched out over the seat, mumbling, "Who are you...?" Before resuming his slumber). He glanced at the clock on his way to the door, it was a little after five; he should start dinner soon... The sound of a car speeding away could be heard as Canada unlocked the door, and he briefly wondered why some one would be in such a rush. He pulled open the front door, maybe that worked a later shift and was running late, or perhaps they had an obligatory date that changed locations at the last second—

No one was at the door.

Mattie's eyes slowly traveled downward, knowing what they would fall upon an instant before they did.

Another bouquet of roses.

France knew when Mathew had left the house... He had also known when the Canadian returned. The younger blonde picked up the second gift up and walking into his house, placing it next to the first. Each bundle had five blooms, bright, beautiful and full. _Nothing but the best for his Mathieu._ Slowly, Canada left the kitchen, returning several minutes later with a vase in hand. He filled it with water and set it on the table. Carefully, as to avoid the thorns, each flower was transferred to the vase, and the glass vessel was placed in the center of the table—almost as in honor.

Downfall started with the roses.

Like it always did and always would.

That much he knew was true

* * *

><p><strong>I've actually updated on time for once, yay! And I passed all of my finals! (Major thanks to everyone who wished me luck, I love you all!)<strong>

**Now back to the story...Oh France, you manipulative frog you... (I think it actually says on his shoutwiki page that he enjoys manipulating people). I enjoyed writing Canada's interaction with Kumajiro, I mean, it's nice to have the bear say something other than "Who are you?" (though I do enjoy using that every once in a while). Now if only Mattie could get in contact with Gilbert... **


	8. Chapter 8

Their maps were divided into three distinct sections, and then scribbled out into two because Italy couldn't be trusted to drive alone. The search started out relatively calm. Germany and Italy would drive one way and Prussia would drive the other. They would call one another every fifteen minutes or so and report their results, or rather lack of. Prussia ditched his rental car back at the hotel and settled for searching on foot with Gilbird watching overhead.

Armed with a small French to German dictionary the Prussian walked the streets, asking everyone who passed if they had seen Matthew but, unfortunately, no one had seen the blonde. His brow creased in worry, and he scowled as he realized that his brother was right.

Finding Mattie was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

The sun hung far in the west as it was the late afternoon, and he happened to be searching through a small shopping area. Suddenly Gilbird let out a shrill whistle of warning, making Prussia press himself flat against the wall of the café he was walking by.

"_Excusez-moi, mademoiselle..."_ Gilbert carefully looked around the corner and froze.

What the hell was France doing here?!

Said man had his back to the albino and was showing a woman what appeared to be half of a picture. The woman—a redhead—leaned forward, scrutinizing the photo.

She tapped the photo, a smiling forming on her face, _"...Monsieur Williams?" _

Williams... France could only be searching for Canada. Gilbert felt his heart drop into his stomach. _"Oui!"_ Francis's voice was elated; Prussia could picture the happy, yet sly smirk on his former friend's face. The Frenchman began speaking again, something in a voice that would sound utter charming to a woman, but pompous to a man. The redhead blushed and giggled at whatever praise Francis was spewing, then murmured a 'you're welcome' of sorts. The pair separated and walked off in opposite directions, with Francis getting into a car and driving away.

"Hey, wait!" The area was full of people, and Gilbert quickly lost the redheaded woman in the crowd. He swore under his breath and he whipped out his phone—Italy's actually, the Prussian's was no longer functional after he 'accidentally' spiked it on the ground in anger after being fed up with it not working (shortly afterwards he learned of the simple concept of resetting one's phone). He rolled his eyes as he saw his brother's name in Feliciano's contacts, which had a heart both before and after it. The albino dialed the number, Ludwig answered on the first ring.

"_Ja?"_

Panic quickly claimed Gilbert's senses, "We got a problem, and I mean a big problem. And when I say a big problem, I mean a big un-awesome _French_ problem!" Silence. Germany had understood what he meant. Prussia could imagine his brother wearing one of his signature 'Vhat the fuck?!' faces right about now. "...West?"

"You're kidding." The blonde muttered. "There's no vay—"

"Yeah there is! He's here, I just saw him!"

"You're _sure_ it vas him?"

The albino growled in response, "Who else would be walking around, speaking in French—Not Canadian-French, but _French_-French, there's a difference—and searching for _Monsieur Williams?"_ He imitated the Frenchman, making his accent sound as obnoxious as possible on the last two words. "It _had_ to be him!"

"Alright," Ludwig's voice became serious, "Tell me vhere you und ve'll come get you... Keep a low profile."

"Why? He's already left!"

"I don't vant you drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I vant you to sit down and shut up," Germany answered harshly, "I'll see you in about ten minutes."

Briefly the Prussian wondered why his brother was so irritable, but quickly received an answer when he sat down and felt a wave of fatigue slam into him.

Jet lag.

The sensation was highly disorienting, and he swayed on the spot for a minute before violently shaking his head to clear it. Gilbert then realized that Ludwig was probably worse off than him, since the younger man had been traveling a lot more recently. Chances were that the German would not allow the search to continue at this point, stating that they were too tired and that they'd be more harm on the road then a help to finding Matthew. Prussia scowled again, realizing that he brother would be right... Again.

That fact did absolutely nothing to calm Gilbert's now raging paranoia. He took a breath to calm himself. He needed to try and think this through... The Prussian's eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he tried to formulate an awesome plan, "Dammit Birdie, why do you have to live in such a big city?!"

Gilbird decided to land on his shoulder chirping urgently, "What?" His owner asked. "You got an idea?" The bird tittered excitedly in reply as it jumped up and began flying again, moving to hover in front of the Prussian. "Okay... Hmm... Oh I see!" Gilbert beamed proudly at his pet before his expression fell, "Yeah, that isn't gonna work..." Gilbird landed on the man's head and pecked him, letting out a shrill tweet of anger. "Ouch! Cut it out! Just... Listen to me for a second, will ya?!" He scooped Gilbird off his head and held him in his hands. "So let's say you _do_ go fly and search for Birdie, how would you be able to tell him I sent you?" More chirping and the albino sighed in response, "Gilbird... I hate to break it to you, but I'm the only one who can understand you." The chick peeped in protest, "Sorry but it's true, I'll have to write a note for you to give him." Gilbird whistled angrily, "I said I was sorry! And I don't have any paper on me; you'll have to wait until we get back to the hotel!"

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Gilbird let out a sad chirp.

"It's not like that!" Gilbert soothed, "I _know_ you could find Birdie no problem, it's just communicating with him that's the hard part!" He placed the bird back on his head, "The easiest way to go about this is for me to give you the note, you fly it to Birdie, have him write his address down and then fly the note back to me, okay?" Gilbird chirped in agreement, "Awesome."

It didn't take much longer for Ludwig to arrive. Gilbert took one look at his brother before stating, "Get out and let me drive."

Harrowed blue eyes glared at the albino, "Vhy should I?"

"West, you look miserable," That was an understatement, "You stayed up all night at the terminal, and refused to sleep on the plan, plus we're all suffering from jet lag. That and I just want to drive." Gilbert looked and saw that Italy was snoozing in the passenger's seat, "He's sleeping." Gilbert looked at the blonde curiously as he got out of the car without protest, "Why is he sleeping?"

"Nothing interferes with Feli's siestas."

"Okay then..." Prussia muttered to himself as he put the car in drive.

"Ve're heading back to the hotel," It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.

Gilbert scowled, he was right in assuming his brother was going to call off the search, "Fine..." He grumbled as he drove. Still, he couldn't help but glancing at the people and places passing by, hoping to spot a familiar flash of blonde.

The journey to the hotel was roughly a thirty minute drive, and shortly afterwards the weary trio walked into their hotel room (well, technically Italy was being carried, but that was beside the point). The first thing Prussia set out to do was to find some paper and a pen.

"Vhat are you doing now?"

"Gilbird wants to search for Mattie," Prussia stared at the paper in front of him. How on earth could he convey that he was looking for his friend without sounding creepy? _'Normally I'd applaud you for being spontaneous, but to go AWOL without telling at least your brother where you're heading is not awesome at all! So now in order to make sure your okay, the awesome me flew all the way here to visit you! But I have no idea what your address is and my phone is broken. So if you could just write your address down and give it to Gilbird, that'd be awesome! See you soon, Gilbert' _

Okay, that didn't sound _too_ bad...

He reread the note again... Okay it _was_ pretty bad but it was the best that he could do, _okay?!_

Germany rolled his eyes, "Do you really think that bird will be able to—?"

The Prussian suddenly rounded on his brother, "Do not," He growled, "Do _not_ underestimate the awesomeness that is Gilbird."

"Sure, sure..." Ludwig busied himself with changing into more comfortable clothes before lying down next to Feliciano on one of the beds.

Gilbert swiftly made his way to the lobby and out the front door of the hotel (he had forgotten that the windows wouldn't open). Gilbird remained hidden in the albino's coat pocket until they hit the parking lot then from there the tiny yellow bird took flight with the note in his beak. It wasn't that big, only about the size of a rolled up index card, "Now you be careful, okay?" Prussia patted his pet on the head for luck, "You can stay out for the night, but I want you back here before we set out tomorrow." Gilbird nodded, orbiting the Prussian once before flying away. Gilbert watched until the chick disappeared from view, feeling his chest become heavy.

He didn't like the feeling of uselessness.

He hated just to stand idle.

A frustrated noise arose from his throat as he trudged back to the hotel room. He was too tired to go out and search, irritated because his brother probably wouldn't let him go search even if he felt like it, pissed at himself because his irritation was unjustified, and confused as hell as to why a certain Frenchman would _dare_ show his face in the one place in the world where he definitely should not be.

Seriously, what was that guy's problem?! France had no right to be there! Hell, he had no right even to be in the _Western_ _Hemisphere!_ But still, Francis's presence in Ottawa all but confirmed that Mattie was there. Even if he was searching for the Canadian, it proved that he and Prussia were on the same wavelength. Yet there still was the nagging thought that Matthew might not be in the city after all, and if he wasn't...

The trail ran cold.

Gilbert reentered the hotel room and shrugged off his jacket. Feliciano and Ludwig were sleeping peacefully and the Prussian wondered how his brother could look so stressed even in repose. He got changed and prepared to go to sleep as well. He looked at the clock, it was almost six... They really _had_ called it an early day. Gilbert let his thoughts wander back to Mattie as he walked to the bathroom.

Birdie had to be here...

He simply _had_ to be.

The albino returned to the main room and flopped down onto the other bed with a yawn. Shock struck him as he realized that he had no idea what they were going to do about the search come tomorrow. He rolled over with an agitated groan.

As of that moment, Gilbird was his only hope.

xxxxx

There were too many humans.

Gilbird fluttered from lamppost to lamppost, watching all the people rush by in their strange metal boxes and go in and out of their big wooden nests. With the note still firmly clamped in his beak, he had been flying for nearly three hours, and still no sign of Prussia's Birdie.

The little bird himself was confused, the nice man with the strange curl—the one who didn't say "Ve," all the time—looked nothing like a bird, so why did Gilbert call him one?

Humans were so strange...

He really had no clue where he was—well he knew he was in a place called Canada... And he also knew the man Gilbert was looking for was called Canada. Why did humans have so many names? Why couldn't they just have one name, like Gilbird? He didn't see anything wrong with having just one name, Gilbert had told him multiple times that having the name Gilbird was awesome.

The yellow chick perched himself on top of a sign and gave his surroundings a long, analyzing look. This street had a lot more humans walking about; they went into many different buildings and always came out carrying something in a bag. He kept an eye out for that strange curl, but none appeared. He resumed his search flitting from one perch to the next and giving each passing area that same beseeching look.

So many places, so little time...

It was getting late, and the buildings were starting to go dark. It had also gotten colder, forcing the small bird to seek refuge for the night. A shiver coursed through his body, making it difficult to fly. He roosted in a nearby tree, hoping to spot someplace warm to stay. Barely any humans were walking on the street at that point, and over half of the buildings showed no signs of life...

There!

Across the street was a small store with bright flowers in the windows. Flowers couldn't survive in the cold, so that place just _had_ to be warm! Suddenly the lights went off and a woman was exiting the door. Gilbird launched himself from the tree, dropping until he was flying only an inch above the pavement. Deftly he zoomed around the woman's ankles, managing to fly through the crack of the closing door and into the shadows of the store.

That was close... But the tiny bird was right, it was warm in there. He waited until he was sure that the woman was gone then flew around, trying to find a suitable place to rest. He eventually settled with a small spot next to a potted plant on top of a shelf. He set the note down before making a few more trips around the room, this time stripping leaves and petals from some of the more wilted flowers and forming a makeshift nest. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as Gilbert's hair would have been, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Gilbird tucked the note under his wing for safekeeping and settled down into his little sanctuary for the night.

He would rest until the store opened back up into morning, and then keep searching for Birdie. He didn't plan on returning to Gilbert until the Canadian was found.

xxxxx

Gilbird was soundly awoken by the movement of the pot knocking him off the shelf. He tumbled through the air, landing in an arrangement of carnations.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we can't deliver the wreaths until the day after tomorrow." A woman had a phone wedged between her cheek and shoulder, talking to a customer while retrieving the potted plant from the upper shelf. She didn't seem to notice Gilbird as she brought the plant to the register, "Yes, you've told me that the wedding is tomorrow—several times actually—but we can't fill such a large order overnight." She turned her attention to a different customer, "That'll be eleven twenty-nine." Then to the phone, "Okay, if we half the size of the wreaths we may be able to work something out..." The cashier busied herself with the register, "Eight dollars and seventy-one cents is your change, thank you and I hope your friend feels better soon!"

Gilbird righted himself and hid in the flowers surrounding him. That woman seemed much to busy to notice his presence. Good, now all he had to do was wait from someone else to enter and he's make his exit. He reached under his wing to retrieve the note—

It wasn't there.

It. Wasn't. _There._

Gilbird whipped his head around in a panic. While the woman's back was turned he rocketed back up to the shelf to see if he had dropped it while he was sleeping.

Not there.

That meant he lost it when he fell. Gilbird scrutinized the variety of blossoms beneath him, trying to spot the rolled up note.

He had never lost a message before; to do something like that went against the very nature of awesome. Its retrieval was of the utmost priority. The woman in charge of the store kept going between the shelves and the register, never giving a window of more than fifteen seconds for the tiny bird to search.

"...Yes ma'am, I understand. We'll try our best to get it done on time." The woman finally hung up the phone with an exasperated expression, "Why I put up with people like her I'll _never_ know!" She rushed back to the counter again, "I'm so sorry to have made you wait—oh!" She recognized the person she was talking to, "Hello again! Let me guess, same thing as yesterday?" She and the customer shared a laugh.

Aha! Slipped within a bundle of deep red flowers, the edge of the note could be seen.

"You said that you'd be passing through here often, so I put in an order for several of these just for you!" No! The woman grabbed the red bouquet and brought it over to her customer just before Gilbird could retrieve the message it carried.

"_Merci!_ I cannot thank you enough!" The man seemed simply delighted, "And may I say 'ow befitting it is for you to work 'ere? Only such a beautiful woman would 'ave enough sense to surround 'erself with such beautiful flowers."

"Oh please, it's a family business; I have to work here..." She seemed to brush it off, but the pink dusting on her cheeks welcomed the compliment. During their conversation Gilbird flew from the shelf behind the counter to one by the door. He was going to tail this man and wait for an opportunity that would—hopefully—allow him to get the note back without too much trouble.

The man paid for the bouquet and exited the store, with Gilbird flying stealthily behind him. The little bird couldn't see a way to recover the message while that man was holding the flowers, so it would have to be regained during the car ride. He noticed that the man was wearing a hat, so he flew upward, waiting until the man opened up his car door and was about to get in. Down Gilbird dove, knocking the man's hat askew and creating enough of a diversion so that he could make a hairpin turn and land safely in the backseat. He quickly hopped down to the space behind the passenger's seat, knowing that humans had a tendency to put stuff there when they were driving alone.

There was the sound of crinkling plastic as the bouquet was set down, confirming the bird's thoughts. The man grumbled to himself, confused as to what just happened before starting his car and pulling onto the road. Gilbird tried to steady himself, the initial speed of the car threw him off balance. Now why this human would be driving so fast seemed ridiculous. It was only the morning; Gilbert didn't normally start running around until _at least_ noon.

Carefully Gilbird hopped up onto the seat. The man had his eyes focused on the road; he didn't see the little stowaway.

Wait a minute...

Something about this man was very familiar...

This wasn't the time to think about such things! Slowly and ever so carefully Gilbird crept into the wrapping of the bouquet, trying to make as little noise as possible. The message was only about five inches away, but the noise of the plastic made progress slow and difficult. Finally, amidst thorn and leaf he closed his beak over the note's edge and cautiously began to back up. The car began to slow down, reaching its destination, he had to hurry! When he was nearly there the bouquet was suddenly lifted, catching him off guard and sending him tumbling out of the wrapping and off of the seat. With a soft, yet indignant peep he flew back up. So close! The note was practically on top of those flowers, there was no way it would go unnoticed at that point!

Without a second to lose Gilbird hurled himself after the man as he exited the car. "Now what's this?" The quiet question was heard, asked mostly to the man's self. He picked up the note and Gilbird saw his chance. He swooped in and plucked the message from the man's fingers, his heart thrilling from the success.

Unfortunately, it was short-lived as he startled the man, who swung out in response, mistaking the small bird for some sort of large insect. The strike connected, and Gilbird collided with the hood of the car. He quickly recovered and launched himself skyward, trying to ignore the pain in his left wing and struggling to fly straight. He landed in a nearby tree. The man made a move to pursue him, but stopped at he looked to his watch and scowled. He cast a glare in the bird's direction before going up to the front porch of the house he stopped at and placing the bouquet there. He rang the doorbell then retreated to his car, keen on leaving with great haste. He paid Gilbird no heed as he pulled away, and it was only a moment more before his car was long gone.

Familiar or not, Gilbird decided that he did not like that man.

He readjusted the note in his beak, happy to have it back in his possession. He looked up and saw that the front door of that house was opening, revealing another familiar man. A long curl bobbed slightly as he bent down to retrieve the bouquet, a frown forming on his face.

Birdie!

The mean man had taken him directly to Birdie!

Gilbird couldn't believe his luck. He flew—more like fell with his injured wing—down from the tree and hopped across the front lawn, trying to make it before Birdie shut the door. He made it as far the porch steps before realizing that he would not make it in time, and seeing no other option he dropped the message and burst into song.

xxxxx

_Ding-dong!_

Canada rolled over in his bed, letting out a tired groan. He looked at the clock, half past seven. Who on earth would want to visit him this early on the _weekend?! _He was hoping for a moment where he could _finally_ sleep in, and _of course_ the doorbell rings. He threw off the blankets and lazily made his way downstairs. He yanked open the door, trying to make his expression somewhat pleasant.

No one was there.

Matthew let out as small sigh as he saw the bouquet on his front step... For the third time.

Good morning! Love, your daily stress factor.

He picked it up with a small frown and turned to go back inside. He had almost shut the door when a loud, yet curious birdsong met his ears. He opened the door wider to see a yellow chick sitting on the front step, singing its little heart out. It only took a second longer for it to be recognized, "Gilbird?!"

The bird stopped his melody and picked something of the ground before flying up to the Canadian. Immediately the blonde noticed something was wrong, "You're flying funny... Are you hurt?!" He cupped Gilbird in his hands and rushed him inside. He set the chick down on the counter and tossed the roses onto the table, "Oh my God... Gilbert didn't make you fly all the way from Berlin, did he?!" Gilbird shook his head before dropping the note, relieved to finally have it delivered. Mattie snatched it up and unrolled it, his face shifting from alarm to confusion. "He's here...?" He asked quietly, before raising his voice, "Am I really _that_ obvious?" He specifically came home because he was _supposed_ to the personification of a land _no one_ remembered. He had hoped to actually use that to his advantage, and now _two_ people have successfully located him within a day of each other.

_What the hell?!_

If it were another time, he would have been thrilled that anyone had even noticed he was gone (actually, he was quite impressed with the Prussian tracking him down, even if it was through Gilbird). However, Canada had taken this personal vacation in order to sort out his life, only to find it wound in tighter knots than before.

But... Maybe it would be good to have Prussia over.

Yeah... Having him to talk to would be a good thing.

"Which hotel is he staying at?" Gilbird stared at the Canadian blankly. He might as well have spoken to him in French. Instead of replying, the little bird jumped off the counter and began hopping around the house. "Hey! Where are you going?" Gilbird seemed to be searching for something, and let out a cheerful chirp when he discovered Canada's computer desk one of the other rooms, "You... Want to use my computer?" The bird flew up and landed on the desk. "Oh I get it..." The blonde started up the computer and sat down. Once it fully powered on Mattie began to search for a list of hotels in the area. "Any of these look familiar?" Pictures of each hotel popped up on the screen. They scrolled through the photos for a few minutes, and suddenly Gilbird began tweeting and hopping ecstatically. "That's the one?" Suddenly the bird hopped onto the keyboard, pressing numerous keys until a map showed. Canada looked closely and saw it had a route marked out.

"You really are a clever little bird," The blonde stated in awe as he printed out the map. Gilbird pulled it from the printer and stood on it, thoroughly analyzing the route.

Okay, so it was an hour drive, so that would be about a half hour flying a direct route... Maybe forty-five minutes with the injured wing.

Screw it. Injured or not, he'd make it in twenty-five or less.

Matthew watched in curiosity and amusement as the bird grabbed one edge of the map and folded it over. He then tried to pick it up, but its size made it a bit unwieldy. "Here, if you want to carry it so badly..." Canada folded it a few more times before handing it back to the tiny chick. Gilbird jumped up again flying over to the door, "Wait up! I'm not even dressed yet!"

"But he wants to get out now." A voice responded. The blonde looked to see that Kumajiro had woken up and was now sitting at the bottom of the steps. Gilbird flew over to him, then back to the door. A silent agreement was made between the two as the bear padded over and pushed it open.

"What are you doing?!" Mattie demanded. Gilbird flew out, still managing to be quite fast in his lopsided flight. The Canadian let out a sigh, "What was that about? Now I have to print out another map..."

"Who said the map was for you?" Kumajiro stifled a yawn, "Seems like he needed to bring people here, not the other way around."

"What?"

"You aren't supposed to go anywhere, whoever's looking for you is going to come here," The bear rolled his eyes. "You driving around would have just made everything complicated."

For a moment Matthew was irritated by the matter-of-fact tone in which his pet spoke, but it was cut short as another thought struck him.

Gilbert would be here in an hour...

The place needed to be cleaned. Well, it wasn't filthy, but some rooms did need to be straightened up and dusted and swept and oh, vacuuming wouldn't be a bad idea and wiping down the windows would probably be good too... And he might as well prepare something for breakfast while he's at it, the albino might be hungry when he arrived.

Canada dashed upstairs to change into a suitable outfit before putting himself to work.

The roses sat on the kitchen table, long forgotten.

xxxxx

Gilbert continued to pace in the parking lot. It was a little after eight and they would have started the search by now, but no, Prussia had to wait for Gilbird. The albino couldn't make himself stay still and three very important reasons contributed to that:

He was worried about finding Mattie.

He was getting increasingly paranoid about Gilbird.

It was cold.

He refused to wait inside or in the car because he wanted to see Gilbird when he returned. He didn't really mind the dropped temperature that much, his awesomeness could keep him warm (so he thought while pulling his jacket tighter around himself, wishing he had accepted Feliciano's scarf).

_WHAM!_

Something collided with the back of his head, sending the Prussian staggering forward, "What the—?" He spun around to see a yellow ball of fluff spiraling through the air, trying to fix itself, "Gilbird!" He caught the tiny chick and held him close to his face, "You okay?" The bird collapse in his owner's hands too tired to move anymore. He had made the flight in twenty minutes. Gilbert picked up the paper, "Awesome, you got Birdie's ad—!" He froze as he stared at the unfolded paper, realizing what Gilbird had really brought him. "Man you are _TOO AWESOME!"_ He praised his pet, with every other word out of his mouth being 'awesome.' Gilbird let out an exhausted peep in response, sparking the Prussian's concern. "Right, you must be beat..." He placed the tiny bird in his coat pocket, "Think you'll be okay in there?" There was a soft chirp that was interpreted as a 'yes.'

Gilbert quickly called his brother, Exited to replay the information, "Gilbird's back!"

"Did he get an address?"

Gilbert gave a hearty laugh, "He did something much more awesome than just getting an address! He got us a fucking _map!"_ He laughed again, "I _told_ you not to underestimate the awesomeness that is Gilbird!"

Germany was not amused, "Alright... Feli and I will be down in a few minutes..."

Prussia hung up the phone and did an awesome victory dance before climbing into the car and pulling in front of the lobby. A few moments later Ludwig and Feliciano appeared, "Hurry up!" Gilbert shouted as the two climbed in the backseat. He tossed the map to the blonde, "Okay so... Which way do I go?"

The German let out a sigh, "Perhaps I should drive..."

The seats were switched around, with Italy and Germany in the front and Prussia in the back. "Ve, does this mean we get to meet your Birdie now?"

"Yeah I guess..." The albino scratched the back of his head as Ludwig began to drive. "A-And he's not _my_ Birdie... He's just Birdie..."

"Ve, did I make Gilbert embarrassed?"

"N-No!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes and handed the map to his Italian in order to distract him, "Make sure I'm going the right way, okay?"

"Okeydokey!"

Germany caught his brother's eyes in the rearview mirror and allowed himself a small, amused smile.

Prussia scowled, knowing what Ludwig was thinking...

And knowing that he was right.

...Again.

xxxxx

Mattie let out a sigh of relief as he finally put the cleaning supplies away. He then turned to the stove as his stomach growled loudly, stating the last order of business: breakfast.

He walked over to the pantry and began gathering various ingredients. He set them on the counter and pulled out two bowls before going to the refrigerator and pulling out milk, eggs and butter. After a few minutes of rummaging around in the kitchen drawers he located the proper measuring equipment and a whisk. He washed his hands and rolled up his sleeves.

In his opinion, nothing said "Good morning!" and "Welcome!" better than a hot, freshly made batch of pancakes.

Made from scratch, of course.

Let's see... One cup flour, two tablespoons sugar, two teasp—Canada decided that he was feeling a lot hungrier than usual... So make that two cups flour, four tablespoons sugar, four teaspoons baking powder and one teaspoon salt. After combining all of the dry ingredients into one of the bowls he stuck half a stick of butter in the microwave so it would melt. While that was going he added two cups of milk and cracked two eggs into the second bowl. Ten seconds later the butter was done, added, and the wet ingredients were whisked. The first bowl was carefully poured into the second, and they were mixed with equal care.

To make the perfect pancake, one needed a steady hand and patience.

He let the batter sit for a few minutes while he lightly greased a pan and began to heat it up on the stove. Once it was the right temperature he began spooning the batter onto said pan and began cooking breakfast.

The batter sizzled as it spread lazily in the pan, forming some sort of rotund shape. Little by little, bubbles blossomed across the surface and the edges solidified. Mattie lifted up on edge to see that the one side was now a deep golden-brown. He lifted the pan and with the flick of a wrist the pancake was flipped onto its other side. A couple minutes later it was flipped once more onto an awaiting plate and served to Kumajiro.

Canada took pride in his pancakes much like his brother took pride in his burgers... The only difference being that most people actually _liked_ pancakes.

Sorry America.

While he was cooking the blonde would occasionally depart to the front window to check if his friend had arrived yet. Three pancakes later, the doorbell _finally_ rang. He flipped one more pancake onto a plate before rushing to the door. He pulled it open with a flourish, excitedly expecting to see a certain Prussian.

Instead he got a face-full of Italy.

The friendly brunette tackled Matthew, spinning them around in a circle before releasing him, _"Ve, Buongiorno_ Mr. Canada!" He sniffed the air, "Oh wow, something smells really good! Ve, can I check it out?" Without waiting for a response the hyper Italian waltzed into the kitchen, leaving a rather stunned and confused Canadian in his wake.

"I'm sorry for, uh, him..." Mattie turned to see Germany standing in the doorway. There was an awkward pause, "...May I come in?"

"Um... Sure..." Who was Canada to deny hospitality to a fellow nation? Still, he was expecting _Prussia, _not his brother and... turned his back to the door and scratched his head in mild bewilderment.

"Yeah... Sorry about that, they wouldn't let me leave Berlin without them." Matthew quickly pivoted to spot the one he sought, and greeted him with a warm smile. Red eyes sparkled with an unknown kind of relief, like Gilbert had been waiting to see the Canadian for a while, "Hey there, Birdie! The awesome me has arrived!"

"Well come on in! The more the merrier!" Mattie tugged the albino inside, a smile spreading wide across his face.

Gilbert, like Feliciano before him, sniffed the air, "What is that _awesome_ smell?" His stomach growled in agreement since he had been waiting for Gilbird in lieu of eating anything that morning.

Canada chuckled sheepishly, "I made pancakes..."

The Prussian grabbed his friend, "To the kitchen!" He shouted as he dashed down the foyer.

After five minutes or so everyone was served and stationed themselves about the kitchen. Gilbert and Mattie were standing at the counter while Ludwig and Feliciano sat at the table. Kumajiro made a timely disappearance, displeased at having so many people in the room at once. The pancakes were a hit, even Ludwig complimented them.

Prussia was highly intent of finding the correct way to express his love for the food in terms of awesomeness, "I'm serious, if there were ever such a thing as edible awesomeness, I'm _pretty sure_ these pancakes would be it!"

Germany rolled his eyes, "Coming from Gilbert, that's about the highest praise you can get."

Matthew laughed again, "Thank you!" He replied cheerfully.

"Ve, where did you get these from?" Italy decided to bring the many roses on the kitchen table to everyone's attention.

A light blush graced the Canadian's cheeks. Crap, he had forgotten to move them... Sure if it were just Gilbert there he'd explain it easily, but in front of Germany and Italy it would just be awkward to state that France was visiting him, "I got them from, uh... From a friend..."

The Italian didn't notice the younger blonde's hesitation, "Ve! Mr. Canada has really nice friends then!"

The German brothers, however, did. Instantly Gilbert knew whom the Canadian was trying to avoid speaking of, "So, how many times has this_ friend _given these to you?" His voice was suspicious, his eyes suddenly cold.

Matthew stared at the albino, becoming distraught when he understood that the Prussian wanted details about France's visits, "Three times, starting yesterday."

"I think I might've seen this _friend_ of yours..." Prussia exchanged a look with his brother, "And I think we might be dropping by here often to see if we can meet your _friend_ and sit him down for a little chat."

"You've seen him?" Canada sounded absolutely mortified.

"Don't worry about it Birdie, we'll make sure he doesn't bother you anymore!"

"...Who said he was bothering me?"

Gilbert nearly choked on a bite of pancake. He stared at the Canadian, shocked at the response.

Mattie stared down at his plate, the red tint on his cheeks becoming darker.

Now _that_ complicated things.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm early! (Well technically it's a few minutes until midnight, which would then make it Friday, but that's beside the point)<strong>

**WOW this is a whopper of a chapter... over six thousand three hundred words! Gah my creative organ... but this was so much fun! The biggest problem for this chapter was actually deciding when to have it end, and I was like "What the hell, Gil and Mattie are gonna have their reunion in this one." **

**You know, when I was writing the scene about Mattie making pancakes, I made myself reeeeally hungry, and I gave myself the strongest craving for pancakes I've ever had in my LIFE!**

**So what did I do?**

**I stopped in the middle of writing that scene and I made pancakes. For dinner. At ten 'o clock at night.**

**IT WAS AWESOME! Plus it really helped me get the feel for that scene... I'm OCD about my pancakes, and I'm pretty sure Canada is too... **

**Gah so this end's my late night babble... By the way I would like to make this chapter a tribute to Ejo97, I hope you're feeling better! *Prussia gives you a Gilbird***

**Prussia: Everyone who reviews gets a free Gilbird!**

**LOL, okay it's 12:07 right now and I'm really tired... So I'm going to go. Next chapter will DEFINATELY be shorter than this monster, and maybe I'll get lucky again and finish early. If not, see you next Friday!**

**Fave! Alert! Review! Those are the things that keep me going! I cannot write if I do not know what you all think!**


	9. Chapter 9

"_...Who said he was bothering me?"_

The cheery morning atmosphere of the kitchen shattered with the unintentional revelation. Gilbert stared in openmouthed shock, Ludwig made a noise of disapproval but otherwise ignored the statement, and Feliciano stared as well, but more in confusion than anything.

"No way," The albino stated, "No _way."_

Mattie let out a sigh, "Forget I said anything..." He muttered as he picked up his plate and walked over to the sink.

"How can you say something like _that_ and expect me to forget it?!"

"I was being honest..." Canada countered. "...I mean... Would _you_ turn down a gift?"

Prussia scratched his head, "Um, _yeah,_ if they were from a cheating bastard who stalked me into another country!"

"...You don't understand..."

Red eyes rolled, "Your situation in layman's terms: Francis fucked with the Italy bros—no offense Fel—and then West, America and Antonio fucked him up. You packed up and headed here, scaring the crap out of me and your family, so I headed here with Gilbird, West and Italy to make sure you're okay, and here we are!" He extended his arms out to indicate them all, "What is there to understand?!"

Mattie turned on the faucet and began to clean his plate, determined to keep his back turned and not meet anyone's eyes. Feliciano looked towards Ludwig, his eyes sparkling with concern. The German only shook his head, an indication that they should stay out of the argument.

"Well?!" Gilbert badgered, "What are you going to do about it?!"

Canada began drying his plate, "For now... Nothing."

"Nothing?! What do you mean nothi—?"

"_Look,"_ Though quiet, the word still had enough force to cut the albino off, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm going through _a lot_ right now, between uprooting myself from my former boyfriend, trying to settle back in here, dealing with mysterious gifts from said ex-boyfriend; plus I'm forced to deal with _your_ sudden appearance, which isn't helping me in the _slightest._ I've only been home for all of two days, and my primary concern is getting my house back in order and reestablishing _my_ life. And as for the roses and Francis, I'm _sorry_ if I don't have solution that _pleases_ you." The Canadian never raised his voice but his final statement was still a verbal slap in the face. He folded his arms and looked at his other guests, "Are you two done? I hate to be rude, but I have a lot of things I need to get done—"

"Like what?!" Prussia demanded.

Italy quickly stood up, "Ve, we understand..." He grabbed Germany's hand and pulled lightly, telling the blonde to get up. "We'll be _leaving_ now." Surprisingly the statement was forcefully directed at Prussia. The brunette smiled at Canada, "Ve, and thank you so much for breakfast! Tell you what, next time we visit we can swap recipes! I'll make pasta, okay?"

Mattie cracked a small smile, "Sounds like a plan."

"Yay!" Feliciano cheered, "Ve, We'll see you later! _Ciao!"_ He led Ludwig out of the house.

Prussia stared at his friend, and then opened his mouth to say something, but the Canadian interrupted him, "Goodbye Gilbert."

Goodbye, in this case, translated to a very polite 'Get out of my home.' The Prussian narrowed his eyes at the dismissal, but went out the front door regardless.

Matthew's brow creased with stress when he heard the door close. Why would Prussia get so mad? He gathered the rest of the dishes and began to wash them. His gaze drifted back to the source of the conflict still situated on the kitchen table. He walked over to place the new roses in the vase, noting that it was getting rather full. Again his brain rehashed the question: why would France keep leaving the roses and run?

What kind of reaction was the man looking for?

The Canadian knew that he shouldn't like the gift, but he couldn't help but find it strangely romantic. He was fairly certain that _anyone_ would appreciate the roses, and it would be rude to reject them... Did this mean that Francis truly cared? He... He had to, otherwise he wouldn't have flown all the way out here—but a nagging voice gnawed at the back of Matthew's mind. _Remember why you came here._ Bile rose in the back of the young blonde's throat. Francis wormed his way back into your heart once, how was this time any different? When will this nonsense _stop?_ But Francis was the only person to reach out to him... The only one to tell him that he was loved.

_No,_ Canada shook his head as if to clear it; this wasn't right. He wasn't ready for this! Not here, not now... Not again. Yet that did not change the conflict raging within his heart and mind. No matter what he did he was eternally drawn and repulsed by the Frenchman for a multitude of reasons. That nagging voice decided to switch gears, but what about Gilbert? It asked.

The Canadian paused... What _about_ Gilbert?

Well, didn't he fly out _just_ as far for your sake?

Matthew shook his head once more. He needed to stop talking to himself, it wasn't healthy. But the argument in his head would not cease.

Prussia was the first person to reach out to you after the meeting. He made you smile, he told you to keep on smiling, and he sent Gilbird to make sure you were okay. When he wanted to let you know he followed you, he spoke to you directly one he found you. He's looking out for you. The mental war raged on, and the Canadian clutched his head in frustration, unable to perish any thoughts.

They say that if a certain someone can't leave the mind, then maybe that person belongs there.

But what happens when there are two?

xxxxx

It pained Francis to watch his little Canadian from afar. He walked back from his car down the street just in time to see Prussia storming from the house and to be honest the angry expression he wore was... Quite amusing. The car sped past him with a low growl, and France felt his expression morph into something much darker as he stared after the vehicle.

How _dare_ they approach his Mathieu.

It was a bit chilly out, so the Frenchman wore a long overcoat, opting for stealth. A simple hat and a pair of glasses concealed him enough so that he would not be recognized from afar. He walked back up the sidewalk, approaching Mathieu's mailbox. From his coat he withdrew another perfect rose, and carefully slipped it inside.

Mathieu...

Didn't he know that it was _wrong_ to talk to other men when one was in a committed relationship? They would need to talk about that later. The older blonde chuckled softly, yet the laughter did not reach his eyes. He really should be _furious_ at the boy for running off like that, but that, like their talk, would be handled later. All that matter at the moment was leading _his_ Mathieu back to him. He blew a kiss in the direction of Canada's home before turning on his heel and walking away. It wouldn't take too long before he won the battle that was _surely_ raging in Mathieu's mind.

Love and war went hand in hand, and all is fair within them. And while Francis was not particularly strong in the latter, in love he would not surrender.

In love he would not lose.

xxxxx

To say that Prussia was perplexed, was an understatement.

He thought today was going to be perfect once he received that map. He would have finally gotten to see that Birdie was okay, and then they would have just had a really awesome day. So they did arrive, and there were _pancakes_. Mattie could cook one _hell_ of a pancake. They had an awesome breakfast, _surely_ a sign of an awesome day ahead.

Then Italy pointed out those _damn_ roses.

Next thing he knows, he's fighting with Birdie over France. _France,_ of all people! Why couldn't Mattie just see the guy as the cheating scumbag that he was? Why did the Canadian insist on letting everything slide by for now?

"_I'm _sorry_ if I don't have a solution that _pleases_ you." _Ouch...Alright, so _maybe_ Birdie made a point there... His life. His decisions.

"But for the love of God why can't he just move on?!"

Gilbert had not been aware that he was talking out loud until Feliciano gave him a very strange look. Another odd occurrence of the morning was that the Italian had requested to sit in the back with Prussia on their ride back to the hotel, and that now the usually happy brunette fixed him with a stony glare. Gilbert responded with his own look of bewilderment, "What's wrong with you?"

"You really _don't_ understand," Italy folded his arms. Very few things made him angry; ignorance of other's feelings was one of them. He clarified, "What Mr. Canada said... He's right, you _don't_ understand."

The albino tapped his brother on the shoulder, "Hey West, what they hell is your boyfriend talking about?"

Germany looked irritated, "First off, don't touch me vhile I'm driving. Second..." His looked curious, "Feli, vhat _are_ you talking about?"

Mocha colored eyes stared into red, "You may understand the situation but you have no clue what your Birdie feels. He has every right to have conflicted feelings and as a friend you should _not have yelled at him like that!"_ Ludwig couldn't help but turn around at the next stoplight to catch a glimpse of Feliciano's face. With his eyes open and face set in a cross between a pout and a scowl, the resemblance to his older brother at that moment was _quite _unnerving. Thankfully his intensity was much weaker than the Southern Italian's as he chastised Gilbert.

"You're upset with how Big Brother France treated Mr. Canada—that's understandable—and you want to protect your friend—equally understandable—but did the fact that Big Brother Francis was Mr. Canada's _first_ lover _ever_ occur to you?" Feliciano leaned towards the other man, "And certainly you know how hard it is to let go of your first love..." His voice softened, as if he were recalling a personal memory, "When you fall in love for the first time...That person takes a piece of you with them...And they tend to be the hardest to forget... The hardest to let go..." His eyes suddenly lit up with sympathy, "And Mr. Canada was _betrayed _by that person..." He relaxed back into the seat, "And with Big Brother France sending those roses..."

_Oh._

There are moments in life when one enters a situation expecting someone to have one reaction, and then exits having experienced something completely different. Prussia was having that realization moment where he realized that not only was he expecting Mattie to hate France and was _wrong_ but realized he also reacted like a total jerk.

Okay so _maybe _he should have been a_ little _more considerate and a_ little _less blunt.

"So what you're saying is..." Gilbert paused, "Erm... What exactly are you saying?"

Italy looked out the window to watch the other cars passing by, "Mr. Canada is probably confused about France's feelings and his own feelings, which is why he's reluctant to let the relationship die... Nobody likes to be alone..."

Gilbert buried his face in his hands, "So I acted like an ass?"

Germany nodded in agreement, "Basically, _ja."_

"No one asked you, West!" The Prussian turned back to Italy, "So what do I do?"

The brunette patted his friend on the shoulder, "Give it time... Then apologize... Then don't do it again."

Prussia slumped in his seat, yes he tried to understand Mattie's feelings, but that didn't undermine his own. He still hated Francis with a passion and wanted him nowhere near Birdie... That last part was going to be the hardest.

xxxxx

"Alright Gilbird, you feeling any better?" Several hours later in the hotel room, Gilbert had finally finished what he believed to be an acceptable apology letter. A few small mountains of crumpled stationary littered the floor, with the waste basket being filled to the brim. The yellow chick had been asleep since they left for Canada's, and had only awoken an hour ago. He had stated that his wing was definitely feeling better and while his flight was still a bit unbalanced, he insisted that he was strong enough for another flight. Germany, frustrated by the fact that his brother had created such a mess, left the room and was now wandering the hotel. Italy had stayed, wanting to see how things turned out with Mattie.

Gilbird let out a cheerful chirp and grabbed the note. Prussia quickly ran down to the lobby to let the bird out. He walked back into the room to see Ludwig, armed with a trash bag, cleaning up all of the wasted paper. "You sent the note?"

"_Ja,"_ The albino replied, "It'll probably take a couple of hours for him to come back though..."

Italy's phone buzzed in Prussia's pocket, and he flipped it open without bothering to check who it was, "Hello—?"

"VENEZIANO WHERE _THE HELL_ ARE YOU?!" A voice screamed into the Prussian's ears. He dropped the phone and clutched his ears, wincing at the ringing sensation. The voice was so loud that the other occupants of the room could hear it clearly without the device being on speaker, "I DECIDE TO GIVE YOU AND THAT POTATO BASTARD THE _HONOR_ OF DROPPING BY POTATOLAND FOR A VISIT, AND YOU'RE NOT FUCKING HERE TO GREET ME?!"

"Ah, _Fratello!_" Feliciano picked up his phone, holding it an arms length away, "Ve, you're visiting Germany?!"

"_¡Hola _Italy!" Someone called out in the background.

"I'M THE ONE TALKING ON THE PHONE HERE BASTARD, NOT YOU!" Romano shouted angrily. "FELICIANO VARGAS I DEMAND TO KNOW WHERE YOU AND THE MACHO POTATO ARE THIS GODDAMN _INSTANT!"_

"Ve..." The Northern Italian shakily brought the phone up to his face so he could speak into it, "...We're in Canada..." Quickly he threw the phone at Prussia, jumped onto the bed, and buried his head under a pillow. Ludwig backed up several feet from his brother, expecting Lovino's violent reaction.

"**YOU'RE **_**WHERE?!" **_Gilbert swore that his eardrums shattered. **"YOU PUT THAT BASTARD ON THE PHONE, **_**NOW!"**_

Regretfully, Germany picked up the phone, "Before you say anything, I know I am a potato." He held the phone away from him as an enraged onslaught of Italian curses followed the statement. Romano kept yelling for a solid twenty minutes. He was suddenly cut off as someone seized the phone. Cautiously the blonde brought the phone to his ear, "...Spain?" He turned towards Gilbert, "Yes, he is with us," The German held the phone out to his brother, "Spain vants to speak with you."

"I'm not getting yelled at again am I?" The Prussian cautious asked into the receiver.

"No... I, um,_ think _I have Lovi under control..."

"You locked yourself in the car, didn't you?"

"_...Sí..." _The Spaniard replied mournfully, but then perked back up. "So _amigo_, tell me what is going on! Why have you decided to travel so far?" Prussia quickly explained the situation. "Ah... Seems you have quite a predicament... If it were possible you know I would be at your side in an instant to back you up!" A note of deadliness entered the cheery brunette's voice, "But in all seriousness, if Francis is in desperate need of an axe to his face... Or just any part of his body, you let me know, okay?" A smile returned to his tone, "But I sincerely hope things work out with your Canadian friend! Now I think I shall let you go... Lovi looks like he's exhausted himself from throwing his tantrum... Aww isn't he so _cute~?"_

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Whatever you say Antonio..."

"_¡Adios!"_

The albino shut the phone, "...Are my ears bleeding?" They still had a faint ringing from being subjected to Romano.

Feliciano cautiously emerged from his pillow sanctuary. He looked at Prussia, "Ve, I think you're okay..." The brunette sat on the edge of the bed, "I'm sorry about _fratello..."_

Gilbert sighed as he stowed the Italian's phone away once more.

Note to self: always check caller ID, if Romano, hand directly to West.

An hour later there was a tapping at the window, "Oh! It's Gilbird!" Italy exclaimed, "Ve, can I go to the lobby and get him? _Pleasepleasepleaseplease—?"_

"Yeah, just hurry!" Gilbert shouted back. He watched his bird disappear from the window as Italy ran out the door. Seven minutes later the Italian returned with the pet in tow. Gilbird flew over to his owner and dropped the note into awaiting hands.

'_Now I _know_ Italy helped you write this. It seems that you've forgotten my phone number as well...' _The Canadian's cell phone number followed. _'Call me when you get this –Mattie'_

Feliciano grabbed his phone out of the Prussian's hands, "Hey, what are you doing?!"

"Ve, saving the number of course!" After a moment he handed it back. Gilbert looked and saw that the Canadian's cell was now listed under 'Birdie.'

He took a deep breath and hit Dial.

xxxxx

Prussia apologized for his behavior; Canada apologized for throwing them out so abruptly (thought the albino insisted that his friend had nothing to apologize for... And that they had deserved it). Matthew was actually quite relieved when Gilbird arrived, he didn't want the Prussian to think he was going to _stay_ mad.

"You know what," The Canadian finally said, "Why don't you come over tomorrow, and we just hang out?"

"Sure!" Prussia agreed, "What time?"

"Is one good for—?"

And that was when Feliciano's phone died.

So one 'o clock it was.

The Italian had advised Gilbert that he should go alone. "Not even Gilbird?"

"Ve..." Italy though about it for a moment, "No, he'll just be a distraction..."

"A distraction from what?"

The brunette just shook his head, "No Gilbird."

Prussia had expected the wait until the next day to be rater unbearable, but surprising the time flew. Before he knew it he was pulling up in front of the Canadian's house the next day. He rang the doorbell twice and waited.

"Hey, C'mon in!" Mattie greeted as he opened the door.

"Hiya Birdie!" Prussia followed the other man inside and into the kitchen. He was silent for a moment, "Look," He shrugged comically, "Again, I'm real sor—"

"It's fine, really," Matthew insisted, "If I had been able to get ahold of you sooner I would have let you known about Francis and..." The blonde trailed off, not really knowing how to finish the sentence. He waved it off "Anyway, um, what do you want to do? To be honest I didn't really have anything planned... So since you're my guest it's up to you!"

Prussia tried to think of something of awesome activity, but in the kitchen he found himself think of food and that led to him blurting out, "Could you show me how to make those awesome pancakes we had the other day?"

The request caught Mattie off guard, "Pancakes? You _do_ realize that it's past noon, right?"

Oh. Gilbert folded his hands behind his head, "So then we'll have a late awesome brunch!"

Canada laughed, knowing that he would have to give in to the Prussian's wishes, "Alright, I'll show you how to make them..."

"Awesome!" The Prussian punched the air, smiling brightly.

He marveled how the older man's face had the ability to light up like a child's, his happiness was infectious, "You get the flour, sugar and baking power out of the pantry, I'll get out the bowls." After a few minutes they gathered everything they needed. Teaching Gilbert proved to be very entertaining. He really seemed to be making an effort to do well. "Okay so now mix these together, and I'm going to prepare a pan." Matthew set the skillet down on the stove and turned to see Prussia vigorously whisking the batter. _"S-Stop!"_ The albino saw his friends horrified face and froze.

"What?"

"You're supposed to stir it... Gently." Canada took the bowl and whisk from the Prussian, trying to see if there was anything he could do to improve the quality of the batter.

"I ruined it..." Prussia face-palmed, "Sorry..."

"No... I—_we_ can make it work..." The blonde was staring at the mixture intently, "Just... lightly grease the skillet and set it on medium heat..." Okay so he couldn't necessarily _save_ the batter, it wasn't the end of the world. The pancakes just wouldn't be as fluffy as he's like them to be, that's all. He showed Prussia how to cook them, and the hardest part was convincing him that it was worth the wait.

"But I want the pancakes _now..."_

"Do you want to eat a half-cooked blob and get sick?"

"No..."

"Then you'll wait."

About fifteen minutes later they both had served and Mattie had eaten his fill. "Not bad for a first time, huh?" Gilbert stated as he continued to eat. His friend was currently wiping off the counter, stopping when he spotted the still open bag of flour.

"Pretty _awesome_ if you ask me..." A sly smile came to the Canadian's face as he slipped one hand in and grabbed some of the white powder. "Hey Gil..."

"Yeah?" The Prussian turned around, realizing his mistake a second to late.

Matthew flung the fistful of powder into his face with an ecstatic cry of _"Gotcha!" _

The albino sputtered and coughed, once he recovered he stood up, grabbing the bag before Canada could swipe it off the counter, "So that's how it's gonna be? I hope you know this means _war!"_ He began throwing handfuls of flour at the blonde who laughed and dropped behind the kitchen counter. Gilbert jumped up on the counter and dumped a considerable amount of flour on his friend's head before the Canadian could get away. However, Mattie reached up and shoved the bag into Prussia's chest, upsetting his balance enough so that his grip on the bag would loosen, but not enough to tip him over.

With the flour back in his possession Canada tossed some more at Gilbert's front. The albino got down off the counter and scooped some spilled powder off the floor. Mattie quickly realized that he was trapped between the table and the counter and threw the bag at Prussia's pants, effectively coating them. While the older man was distracted the blonde slid over the top of the counter and safely on the other side. All the while both were laughing uncontrollable; Mattie couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun. Unfortunately once he righted himself he was on the receiving end of another facial assault. His glasses, slightly clouded from when his head was covered, were now coated in white, making sight impossible.

He stumbled backwards, trying to wipe them off, but it was no use. By that point so much spilled, that walking hand become hazardous, this was further proven when the Canadian slipped, landing with a sharp _TWACK!_

"Shit!" Prussia ran to the blonde's side, "Birdie?!"

"I'm alright," He laid the floor, dazed. "Um... I'd like to suggest a treaty...?"

Gilbert kneeled down, concerned, "Birdie how hard did you hit your head?"

Mattie giggled, "You said this was war... So now I'm proposing a truce!" He sat up, "The treaty of Awesome Maple, resulting in the Prussian-Canadian Alliance."

"Are you _sure_ you didn't hit your head?"

"I'm sure now help me up!" He reached blindly for the albino.

Prussia grabbed the Canadian's hand and pulled him up, "Alright then, I accept this treaty!" They shared another laugh as Mattie leaned against the counter while taking off his glasses.

"Hmm... I gotta wash these..."

"The Awesome Me will take care of them!" Gilbert exclaimed as he plucked the glasses out of the blondes' hands.

"You don't have to!"

"Please, I helped make this mess, and I gotta help cleaning _somewhere," _The Prussian turned on the faucet, "So I'll start with you!"

Mattie was glad that the flour covering his face masked the small blush that spread across his cheeks. He found the gesture rather... Sweet.

Another conflict arose in the Canadian's thoughts. Now look at that, would this have ever happened with Francis? Did you ever have this much fun with Francis? Sure it was such a simple and childish thing, a flour fight, but it was exhilarating and breathtaking in its own right. When was the last time he laughed like that? If such a thing _had_ ever happened with France, the first thing the older man would be worried about is the state of his clothes, not about Matthew when he fell or the state of the blonde's glasses. Actually... Canada would have been afraid of throwing the flour at Francis. Mattie knew he could get away with if when he threw it at Gilbert. He knew Gil would play along. He brushed the flour off his cheeks, willing his blush to fade.

The Prussian smiled as he wiped off the lenses. That definitely was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in a while. When was the last time he laughed like that? Sure he laughed, but he hasn't _laughed_ with anyone for a long, long time. He grabbed a paper towel and dried the glasses off. He turned and stopped. Mattie's long bangs, not held in place by his glasses, obscured his face. "Hey... Where'd Birdie go?" Gilbert joked as he walked over. He hesitated for a moment then took a step closer, reaching and tucking half of the Canadian's bangs behind one ear as if he were parting a curtain, "There you are! I was thinking I lost you there for a second!"

"Very funny..." Mattie muttered, feeling his blush returning. He looked up see the albino staring at him, "What? Do I still have flour on my face?"

Prussia answered the question with one of his own, "Have you ever considered wearing contacts?" He couldn't help but stare at the younger man. One thing he noticed in particular was Mattie's eyes. He always knew that Birdie had blue eyes, but not that he had a chance to look at them—to _really_ look at them—he saw that they were a deep oceanic blue. On the whole, the Canadian looked even softer without his glasses, cute even. Gilbert would go as far as to call the blonde pretty.

"No, why?" Gilbert looked away sheepishly, Matthew let out an exasperated sigh, "Seriously, what?"

The Prussian grinned, deciding it was best to tell the truth, "You look good—not that you don't _normally_ look good but..." He hesitated again then slipped the glasses back on Mattie's face, "It's kinda awesome to see you without them." His voice was soft, the confession genuine. His hands rested on the counter, on either side of Canada.

"Really?" Matthew whispered, a strange feeling blossomed in his chest... Some sort of longing.

"Yeah..." Prussia breathed in return. There was a moment where everything seem to be still, hanging in a precarious balance. Slowly, he leaned forward—

_Ding-dong!_

Gilbert stopped, his lips just ghosting over Mattie's. The blonde placed a hand on Prussia's chest, making him take a step back. "I better go see who that is," He mumbled quickly while pushing past the Prussian and leaving the room. The albino let out a disappointed sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets. Matthew shyly returned a couple of minutes later, and placed a bouquet of roses onto the kitchen table, on a spot the flour hadn't touched.

"Of course," The Prussian muttered bitterly, too quiet for his friend to hear. Of course he would be bested by roses.

That French bastard had an _impeccable_ sense of timing.

He took a breath, trying to control his temper. Mattie picked the flour bag off of the floor, "Could you... Help me clean up?"

"Hm...? Oh sure... Where do you keep the broom?"

"In the pantry."

Silently they began to clean. Canada dampened some paper towels and began to wipe off the counter. Prussia grabbed the broom and began dragging it across the floor, gathering small mounds of flour. Not a word passed between them. Ten long grueling minutes later Matthew suddenly threw his hands up in defeat, "You know what? I'll just finish it later, you don't have to—"

"This is partially my fault," Gilbert stated, "I'm going to help you clean," He continued to sweep the floor as Canada abandoned the counter and walked over to the table. He grabbed the bouquet of roses and removed their plastic wrapping, before sorting through the vase and beginning to swap out the roses that had begun to show faint signs of wilting.

"Ouch..." He suddenly grumbled.

Gilbert snapped to attention, "You okay?"

"Yeah just got scratched by a thorn..." The Canadian looked at his finger, "No blood though..."

"That's good," Prussia muttered in reply,

Matthew stared at the vase, "You know... That's my least favorite thing about roses... The thorns." Gilbert paused in his sweeping to listen as the Canadian let out a sigh, "Roses are so beautiful... You really learn to admire them after a while... To be given a rose, it's like a blessing because you discover that something about you is so _wonderful_ that someone has to award you with something as beautiful as a rose."

His expression fell; he seemed to be talking mostly to himself, "Something always seemed to appeal to me about roses..." He set the vase back on the table, "They're so beautiful and welcoming... So you let your guard down around them, and you forget about the thorns, even though it's obvious that I have a tendency to get pricked," He held up his injured finger as an example and let out a sad chuckle. "But I figured that its beauty made up for the thorns..." Mattie leaned on the back of a chair, toying with one of the buds, "...Maybe if I was seen with something as good as a rose, maybe people would notice me more—not that I'm desperate for attention or anything!" He stood up straight and waved one hand in a defensive gesture, "Don't get the wrong idea, I'm _completely_ fine with—"

"Birdie," Prussia cut him off as he set the broom aside, "It's just a flower."

The blonde paused for a moment before shaking his head gently; he figured that Gilbert wouldn't get it.

"No, I mean, a rose is _just_ a flower," Prussia leaned against the now cool stove, facing Mattie. "Just like everyon—I mean just like all the others."

Cerulean eyes gazed at him curiously, urging him to explain.

"Well, you see..." He tried to find the right words to say, "The only reason people say the rose is so special—why _you_ say it's so special is because you _think_ it's special and wonderful and all that other _crap."_ He folded his arms, "You give the rose that image, and you give it power over you. You're drawn to it and believe it's the best because you _think_ it's the best—which it's _not."_ Gilbert was silent for several seconds, trying to gather his thoughts, "To me... The rose has always been dark and cold, with its thorns only hurting whoever gets too close." He suddenly picked a different angle, "Okay, so let's say you got a daisy, a rose, a violet and—aw hell let's even throw a sunflower into there. Four flowers now close your eyes and picture them."

Matthew did as he was told, "Okay..." He muttered.

"They all have petals, right?"

"Right..."

"They all have leaves?"

"Yeah..."

"And they all have stems and that pollen thingy in the middle and they grow out of the ground, plus they all need sunlight and water and they all start from these _tiny_ little seeds..." Prussia sighed, "Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

"I think so..." The Canadian's eyes were downcast.

"When it all comes down to it, they're all just flowers. The rose is just like everyone else." Gilbert would have said more, but his phone when off, "Dammit, who the _hell...?"_ He pulled it out of his pocket.

"You got a replacement phone?"

"Nah, this is Italy's..." The Prussian looked at the caller ID before groaning childishly and answering it, "What is it, West?" His tone became defensive as he stuck his free hand into his pocket, "Well _excuse_ me for not wanting to be locked out of the room!" He pulled out a hotel card key, glanced at it, then shoved it back into his coat, "Yes, I have it," He let out a sigh of defeat, "Alright, fine... See ya." The albino hung up while muttering, "If he knew he'd be back earlier he should've just grabbed the damn thing himself..."

Canada frowned, "You gotta go?"

"Yeah, West and Italy are on their way back to the hotel and West just realized that I have the key, and because he's too proud to just ask the staff for help when he gets there I gotta drive over and miraculously get there before him..." Gilbert scowled while folding his arms.

"Well you better hurry then... It'll only make things worse if you make them wait."

"But, uh... How am I gonna explain this?" He gestured to himself, still covered in flour.

Matthew laughed, "C'mon, let's go out on the front porch and see what we can do... Or did you forget that you dumped half the flour bag on me?"

They laughed and went out front to made an effort to brush a majority of the white powder off of themselves, "You still have a bunch in you hair," Prussia pointed out as he finished wiping off his shirt.

"Really?" Canada shook his head, sending clouds of white dust in the air, "Hmm... Now whose fault could _that_ be?"

"Fault?!" Gilbert sounded offended as he tousled those blonde locks, "This is an awesome work of art! Now your hair is almost the same awesome color as mine!"

"We're both cover in flour, so naturally our hair's going to be white!"

"Okay well, I think I got most of it... The car might get messy but least I won't track it into the hotel," The Prussian gave himself one final shake, "How 'bout you?"

"I think I'm good," Canada replied while looking himself over.

Gilbert, realizing that it was time for him to leave, suddenly pulled the blonde into a farewell hug, "You think about what I said... About the roses?" He backed up half a step, his hands resting on Mattie's shoulders, "Please?" He asked softly—with the faintest, faintest hint of desperation.

Was he... Begging?

Blue eyes beseeched a reason why while red strived to receive an answer. Again strange sense of longing tugged faintly at the Canadian's heart, and it was met with another wave of confusion. Several seconds passed and Mattie forced himself to look away, "S-Sure..."

Prussia sighed, letting go of the blonde's shoulders and taking a few steps towards his car. He paused, hoping for Mattie to say something else. After a moment he shrugged and said, "Guess I'll be going then... Bye Birdie."

"Goodbye..."

Gilbert looked over his shoulder to see Canada give a small wave. He cracked a smile and returned the gesture before getting into his car. As soon as he was a considerable distance away from the house he slammed a fist onto the dashboard. Prussia glanced at himself in the rear view mirror, red eyes were panicked, confused. He shook his head and forced himself to focus on the road. Try as he may, he could not push the image of a certain blonde from his mind. His grip on the wheel tightened.

"I was so _close..." _

* * *

><p><strong>HAPPY ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOURTH BIRTHDAY CANADA! <strong>

**(At least... I think that's right...)**

**First off I would like to state that by saying in the previous author's note that the next Chapter would be short, I jinxed myself into writing another 6000 plus word monster. How my hands have not fallen off yet I'll never know. Originally when I woke up this morning I only had up to the first scene change and the flour fight written and I though to myself, "Eh, I'll just post on Sunday, no one will really care..."**

**Then I looked at my calendar.**

**Upon realizing that it was Canada Day I realized I simply HAD to post today, so I wrote. And wrote. Andwroteandwroteandwrote...**

**So here I am twelve hours later! Somehow miraculously on time! (I apologize if there are any errors in my rush to get this up)**

**I would like to sincerely thank my friend aphfangirl7476 for helping me while writing this and listening to me complain all this past week about Writer's Block. This chapter would not have gotten up without you!**

**I hope all of my Canadian readers have a **_**wonderful **_**day, and that everyone else has a splendid weekend as well! Ciao for now!**

**Remember to review!**


	10. Chapter 10

_Brr-ring!_

Matthew pulled a fresh T-shirt over his head, glad to finally be clean and flour-free. He debated whether or not to just ignore the phone call; he really didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment. It was rare that anyone called the house... Canada stared at the phone in his bedroom and waited for the caller-ID to reveal itself.

"Call from: Bonnefoy, Francis."

The young blonde let out a small sigh as he went downstairs. The phone in the living room chimed the same. A moment passed then it stopped. Canada stared at the device for a few minutes. No voicemail.

Hopefully no voicemail.

Please no voicemail.

He picked up the remote and turned on the television. There weren't any games on so he began flipping through the channels, trying to find something interesting to watch. Eventually he settled on an action movie when he grew tired of searching. It was fairly generic, the hero had just emerged from a huge gun battle with his enemies, and several things had exploded. The man was now climbing into a car to embark on a high speed chase because the leader of his enemies had kidnapped his girlfriend and several more things exploded. The villain narrowly escaped the hero with the hostage in tow, and the hero had to figure out the coordinates of the villain's hideout—

_Brr-ring!_

"Call from: Bonnefoy, Francis."

Matthew got up and grabbed the phone, hitting the 'off' button and ignoring the call. He set it down on the end table and resumed watching the movie. To be honest he really wasn't all that interested, but America probably would have liked it. The Canadian made a mental note to remember the title so he could suggest it to his brother.

Kumajiro walked into the room, after the usual exchange of "Who are you?" The bear asked, "Why are you watching this?" Referring to the movie. The hero discovered that the villain was station in a secret facility in the middle of the ocean, and was making plans to infiltrate it.

"There's nothing better on," Mattie replied. He invited his pet to hop up next to him, "Where were you today? You disappeared after..." He trailed off.

After Prussia arrived...

Kumajiro shrugged, knowing what his owner was going to say, "Your friend is loud..." He climbed into the Canadian's lap, "I'm used to the house being quiet..."

Mattie just "Hmm..." -ed quietly in response, not really wanting to talk—let alone think—about a certain Prussian.

_Brr-ring!_

"Call from: Bonnefoy, Francis."

Again the call was ignored.

Kumajiro stared at the phone curiously, "Shouldn't you answer that?"

"I don't want to." Mattie tried to focus on the movie. The hero had managed to stow away on a conveniently placed ship that was conveniently heading towards the villain's hideout situated in the middle of the ocean. Now having a hidden lair all the way out in the middle of the ocean seemed quite pointless to the Canadian. It would be so much simpler—albeit more cliché—to have an evil lair in the middle of a forest or on top of a mountain—

_Brr-ring!_

"Call from: Bonnefoy Fran—" Ignored.

The hero had taken out the henchmen aboard the ship and was singlehandedly steering it towards the villain's hideout. He arrived in record time, but unfortunately he was captured when since the villain was secretly alerted beforehand that one of his ships was taken. The hero wakes up in a room, bound against his will with the villain standing dramatically—

_Brr-ring!_

"Call from Bonne—" Ignored.

—In front of him. The villain began to explain his plan in minute detail, which was another thing that Mattie couldn't get. Instead of wasting his breath, the villain should have just finished the hero when he had the chance. Oh look, the hero escaped his bindings—

_Brr-ring!_

"Call from—" Ignored.

—And was now engaging the villain in hand to hand combat, but his nemesis forced the hero to stop when he showed the girlfriend in a tank that was slowly filling with water—

_Brr-ring!_

"Ca—" Ignored.

—Using his sharp wit the hero managed to free his damsel in distress while the villain howls in fury and defeat. The hero struck the final blow and the villain fell, but somehow the self-destruct mechanism of the lair had been activated—

_Brr-ring!_ Ignored.

—Forcing the hero to escape with his girlfriend in tow while the lair explodes around them and he found a conveniently placed jet ski—

_Brr-ring!_ Ignored.

—And managed to escape with the lair exploding in the background—

_Brr-ring! _

Mattie shouldn't answer, he shouldn't answer, he shouldn't answer...

"Call from—" Ignored.

—A few final emotional words were exchanged—

_Brr-ring! _

He shouldn't answer, shouldn't answer, shouldn't answer, shouldn't answer...

Ignored.

—Between the hero and his girlfriend. They—

_Brr-ring! _

Shouldn't answer, shouldn't answer, shouldn't answer, shouldn't answer, shouldn't answer...!

Ignored.

—Kissed and rode off into the sunset on the Jet Ski—

_Brr-ring!_

Shouldn't answer, shouldn'tanswer, shouldn'tanswer, shouldn'tanswer, shouldn'tanswer, shouldn'tanswer!

—While the main musical theme played in the background and the credits started to roll.

The young nation let out a sigh of relief; he had made it through the movie—

_Brr-ring!_

Shouldn'tanswer, shouldn'tanswershouldn'tanswershouldn'tanswershouldn'tanswershouldn'tanswer_shouldn'tanswer—! !_

Canada grabbed the phone and stormed to the living room after carefully pushing his bear off of his lap, he didn't want Kumajiro eavesdropping.

He shouldn't answer.

"Call,"

He should _not_ answer.

"From,"

No.

"Bonnefoy,"

_No!_

"Fr—"

**DON'T!**

"Hello?" Matthew asked cautiously into the receiver. It was just a phone call, where was the harm in a little phone call? There couldn't be any... Of course not... He nervously waited for an answer.

"_Mathieu! 'Ow wonderful it is to 'ear your voice! I 'ope that you are well?"_ France was beyond ecstatic, he was speaking in French, so Canada responded in the same language just to be polite.

"_I'm doing fine. It's, uh, nice to hear from you, too."_

"_Why so apprehensive_ mon petit chouchou?" The older blonde sounded concerned, _"Do you not know 'ow worried I 'ave been about you?" _

Mattie tilted his head, _"Worried? Francis you don't need to—"_

"_And words cannot begin to describe how much I miss you!"_ There was a sigh, _"Tell me,_ chéri, _when will you stop these foolish antics and come 'ome?" _

"_E-excuse me?"_ Mattie was shocked by the statement. He replied quietly, _"Umm... I think I am home..."_

"_Nonsense Mathieu, you know what I mean. Our 'ome, in Paris, remember?"_ The Frenchman laughed. _"Come now, spare this man's aching 'eart and tell me when you would like to schedule the flight." _

"_W-why would you schedule a—"_

Again the older blonde cut him off, _"So we can go 'ome of course!"_

"_But I—"_

"_If you are not comfortable with selecting a date then I will do so for you—"_

"_Francis—"_ Canada's voice raised an octave in alarm.

The Frenchman did not seem to be hear him, _"Tomorrow sounds pretty good, no?"_

"Non!" The response had a desperate edge, _"Francis, listen to me—"_

"_Ah, I see, you want a day to pack? Zat's perfectly understandable,_ mon amour, _so I will get tickets for a flight the day after tomorrow!"_ France's tone was cheerful with a strange hint of triumph, _"I'll pick you up at—"_

In a last ditch attempt Matthew reverted back to English and let out a distressed shout, "I'm not going anywhere!"

There was a pause, _"Mathieu, what are you talking ab—?"_

"I'm not going anywhere!" He repeated. It was not an angry outburst but more of a frantic statement, "My country is my home a-and I've just gotten here! I-I'm sorry but I'm not leaving and you _can't_ make me!" He did his best to sound firm on the last few words. He bit his lip for a moment, and then continued very softly, "I know you miss me..." His breath caught in his throat, "...I miss you too but... I'm staying." His voice was barely audible, _"I'm sorry..."_

Silence.

For a second the young blonde thought that Francis had hung up until he heard a quiet, "Oh."

Oh? Just 'Oh?'

"I see 'ow it is." The Frenchman's voice was flat, emotionless. "I guess I'll let you go for now."

Canada had wandered back into the kitchen during the conversation, he really didn't want to end the call on an unhappy note, and he didn't want Francis to be upset with him. He struggled to find something to say before a flash of red caught the corner of his eye. He fumbled with his words for a moment before stating, "I, uh, just wanted to say... Thank you... For the roses, I mean."

"Hmm...?" The smallest hint of hope entered the elder voice for a moment, "You like zem?"

"Love them," Mattie chuckled lightly, "You know they're my favorite..."

He received a small laugh in reply, "You 'ave no idea 'ow 'appy zat makes me..." He paused, the kind of pause one would take to check the time. "Well I need to go, _mon cher._ It was so nice to speak with you..."

"Uh, yeah same here." Mattie scratched the back of his head, "Bye..."

"_Au revoir, mon petit lapin,"_ The farewell was tinged with melancholy. There was another pause, "Oh and Mathieu?"

"Yeah?"

"_Je t'aime..."_ The phrase was purred into the Canadian's ear, smooth as silk and holding a strange sort of promise. There was a click and the line went dead. A small thrill ran down the younger man's spine, he didn't know how to react to the final statement... He hit the off button, terminating the call on his end. At that moment reality came crashing down on him, and that nagging voice in his head mentally smacked him.

He picked up the phone once more, not setting it down until he was certain that France's number was blocked.

The bouquet—double the size of what was normally sent—showed up on his doorstep an hour later.

He really should have been expecting it.

xxxxx

"Ve, you have to talk to him..."

With a sigh Germany turned away from the window, "He is perfectly capable of vorking things out on his own."

Italy, seated on the bed, shook his head in earnest and Gilbird echoed his concern, "But what if he's upset about Mr—"

"Feli, vhatever is going on between them is none of our business," The blonde folded his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"He's your _fratello—!"_

Ludwig suddenly snapped, "Und if he's done anything idiotic it's his own fault! Ve helped Prussia find his friend, that's all ve vere supposed to do! Ve are not getting involved any further, so stop!" He immediately regretted the outburst as he saw fear and hurt flash across the younger man's face as Gilbird flew to the bathroom for cover. "Feli..." His voice was apologetic, "I didn't mean to..." He trailed off as Italy looked down at his lap, not meeting Germany's eyes. The blonde sighed again as he moved to sit next to Feliciano and pulled him into a hug, "...I know you're worried about him, but this is something he needs to work out on his own."

"He's always on his own..." The Italian murmured, "...This could be his only chance to fix that..."

"Feli—"

Italy slowly pulled away from the hug, moving to clasp one of Ludwig's hands between his own, "Please...?" He pleaded. "He is your brother; he needs someone to talk to. _Please... _If not for his sake then do it for mine..."

Ludwig mentally cringed, Feli was using that face. That sweet, begging, slightly wounded face that made him look like a lost puppy and that was extremely hard to deny. Why did he have to use the face? It wasn't fair, he knew Ludwig was a sucker for the face. The German scowled, "Fine... But don't expect any results!" He grabbed his jacket and fled the room before Italy could ask for anything else.

Gilbert had returned to the hotel about an hour ago, Feliciano had been watching for the car. Strange thing was that the Prussian hadn't left the vehicle since he arrived. Ludwig walked down the hall at a brisk pace, stopping only when he heard chirping behind him. Gilbird. "You vant to talk to him for me?" After receiving a bout of tittering in response he allowed the bird to perch inside his hood while they both made their way out the lobby and to the parking lot. It was still rather cold, and the forecast he looked up earlier said that the temperature would only drop during the week.

The Prussian's hands still clenched the wheel tightly, with his head resting between them. Germany rapped his knuckles three times against the window. No response. Gilbird flew out of Ludwig's hood and pecked at the glass, causing the albino to shoot up in alarm. The younger brother rolled his eyes as the window was put down.

"Hey..." Gilbert's tone surprised him; the older man seemed to have deflated, lacking his normal brash and awesome attitude.

Ludwig folded his arms, "So, ve can either have a real conversation about vhy you're acting like a _Dummkopf_, or ve can pretend to have a conversation und act happy vhen ve return to the hotel room so Feli can stop vorrying about you, okay?" He glanced at Gilbird, "Or you can talk to your pet."

Prussia let out a sigh as he let go of the steering wheel and slumped back in the driver's seat. He flexed his fingers slowly, as if trying to regain feeling in them. Gilbird entered the window and landed on his owner's head. He let out a whistle, which seemed to take the form of a question. The albino simply shook his head and was silent. After a few minutes of staring Ludwig turned away, "If you're not going to say anything I'm going back to the room," He looked over his shoulder, "You coming?"

"_Ja_, just give me a moment..." Gilbert slowly got out of the car and followed his brother. Gilbird repeated his question and the Prussian only shook his head once more.

xxxxx

The Next Day...

xxxxx

"Feli, are you okay?" The small Italian jumped at the voice. Germany looked at him curiously, "You've been awfully quiet..."

Italy shrugged, "Just thinking, that's all..." He couldn't help it as he glanced at Prussia's sleeping form. It was around three 'o clock in the afternoon and the albino had declared that he was going to take an awesome nap. Feliciano bit his lip nervously as he shifted on the bed, wondering if now was the right time.

"You're still vorried about him, aren't you?" Ludwig rubbed the smaller man's back in an attempt to soothe him, "I know _mien bruder,_ he'll find a vay to vork things out..." Feliciano listened closely and caught the hesitance in his boyfriend's voice, something that only showed when he was faking confidence. Germany was a terrible liar.

Italy sat up and stretched, "Ve... I think I'm going to go for a walk outside... It's kinda stuffy in here." As he stretched one arm upward the other slid downward and to the side, briefly diving under a pillow.

Surprised flashed in the blue eyes next to him, "Vould you like me to come vith you?"

"U-Umm..." He should've expected Ludwig to ask that, "Ve... I, um, actually..." The brunette tried to find the right words without hurting the other man. "I kinda want to be, um... 'Alone with my thoughts,'" He air quoted the phrase knowing that was what Ludwig said whenever he wanted to be left alone.

"Oh..." Germany looked confused for a second, then his expression became uneasy, "Okay..." His brow furrowed and Feliciano felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. Was Ludwig on to him? "Be sure to take your phone with you." The Italian let out a silent sigh of relief as he turned around and pecked his boyfriend on the cheek.

"I'll just be standing outside the lobby, don't worry!" He giggled at Ludwig's responding blush. "Can I wear your jacket? It's so much warmer than mine is..."

Germany's voice grew playfully stern, "Only if you bring your phone..."

"Alright, alright..." Italy laughed softly, casting a wary look at Gilbert. Still sleeping. The brunette picked up the large jacket and began pulling it on.

"Phone?"

"Right here," Italy tapped his hip, a rectangular bulge could be seen where his pocket was. "I might be a while..."

Again he was met with confusion, "Lots of things to think about?" The brunette nation tilted his head at the question, why did Ludwig suddenly sound so nervous?

"Kinda..." Feliciano toyed with the zipper of the large jacket, but decided to leave it open.

Germany sighed, _"Feli—"_

"_Ludwig,"_ Italy mimicked the blonde's tone as he walked across the room, "Everything's fine." He smiled sweetly and opened the door. As soon as it closed behind he hurried down the hall, trying not to look too out of place. He exited the lobby and found a spot to wait. He knew Ludwig would be watching the window for him. Please don't call, please don't call, _please_ don't call... Five excruciating minutes passed, and then Feliciano waited a few more to make sure the coast was clear. The way he held himself against the wall, anyone walking by would think he was waiting for someone. He gnawed on his bottom lip as the time passed.

If anyone—namely Ludwig or Lovino—knew what he was going to do, they would have called him crazy and told him no. Frankly he wasn't sure whether or not he should follow through with his plan in the first place.

Fed up with waiting for Gilbert to make his move, Feliciano decided to take matters into his own hands.

And to be quite honest he was terrified that those matters would shatter into a thousand pieces if he touched them, but at the rate things were they were going nowhere! He stuck his hand into the pocket of Germany's jacket and withdrew a set of car keys. If memory served him right the map was still in the glove compartment... Slowly he made his way though the parking lot. His hand shook as he unlocked the driver's side door and climbed inside. Yep, the map was there.

Before he started the car he pulled a rectangular pack of tissues out of his pocket and tossed it carelessly onto the other seat.

He hoped everything would work out well, he really did.

* * *

><p><strong>Random question: who here has been to Busch Gardens Williamsburg? Because Hetalia has forever screwed up my perception of that place. Seriously, my sister and I realized that one of the main bridges connected the Germany and Italy sections of the park... And we died laughing. And now I am upset that there isn't a Spain section of the park.<strong>

**Anyway, I'm so glad to be able to write again and... Gah I have really mixed feelings about this chapter. I just feel bad to have made you all wait this long and then have little to no plot advancement. I'll try to make the next chapter better. Hopefully I can get one more chapter in before my school year starts in September because after that my moments of freedom will be few and far in between *sadface***

**Reviews, favs and alerts are very much appreciated! **


	11. Chapter 11

**It is so good to be back! Sorry for taking so long, when school started I was thrown headlong into the college search process and even though I've been accepted my stress load has not lessened in the slightest, wah. So yeah other than that nothing really exciting has happened, I hope everyone had a good holiday and also a big thanks to everyone who waited so long for the update! I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

><p><em>Ding-dong! <em>

Canada skidded into the foyer, his expression distraught. No! He had been watching the front door all day, trying to catch France so they could talk in person. But _of course_ as his luck would have it that once he left his post to answer the phone—of all the times for America to call—the doorbell would ring and the northern nation had missed his chance.

"Mattie? Hello? Earth to Mattie!"

Alfred actually had a legitimate reason to be talking to his twin as Arthur's birthday was in a few weeks. The American normally called too early to ask for advice and brainstorm various plans. Canada shook his head irritated that the Frenchman had slipped between his fingers but strangely relieved that he did not have to confront the older man. "Yeah, I'm still here..."

"Good, I thought one of us got disconnected or something... Do you think he'd be okay with a play? Dinner and a show, it's a classic combination!"

The Canadian leaned against the wall, "But didn't you take him to one last year?"

"Crap... You're right..." America sighed, "He would hate it if I became repetitive—"

"Nice word choice," Matthew chimed in with a chuckle.

His brother became flustered, "Sh-shut up! It's not my fault his vocab's rubbing off on me!"

"But that sounds so _unlike_ you!"

Alfred let out a dramatic groan, "C'mon Mattie... I really don't wanna screw this up!"

"That's what you said last year, and the year before that, and the year before _that—"_

"Dude, I'm serious!" His southern twin whined, "I'm out of ideas! I already took him out to his favorite restaurant, to a play, a musical and a ballet—I even took him to see a _chick flick_ that one year!"

"He only asked to see the chick flick because you wouldn't make it through the horror film..." Mattie chuckled, "You know Al, you don't _have_ to take him out for his birthday—"

"Yes I do—!"

"No, you don't," Canada cut him off, "Stay at home for once... Why don't you make him dinner?"

_Ding-dong!_

Mattie looked to the door in surprise, who could that be? He rolled his eyes before returning to his conversation with his brother. Whoever it was probably had the wrong address... "Be romantic; add some candles and I'm sure he'd love it."

"But how am I gonna know what to make? I mean, yeah I can cook but I'm no chef, everyone knows that!"

"Well doesn't Arthur have that stack of cookbooks in the living room? I'm sure if you looked through them you'd get a few good ideas."

_Ding-dong! Ding-dong, ding-dong!_

Canada looked at the door again and sighed, "Al, I gotta go, okay? And relax, you have a _while_ to get it all together, it's not going to be that hard."

"Yeah, yeah, alright... Thanks for the help! See ya!"

"Try to pick a normal dish! Bye," Mattie set the phone down on the kitchen and finally answered the door. Standing there was confused Italy, holding a bouquet of roses. He appeared to be examining the red bundle and jumped when the door opened.

"Ve!" The older nation made a startled sound, but quickly recovered, _"Ciao!"_ He greeted cheerfully. Brown eyes darted between the flowers in his hand to the man in front of him. "Ve, I found these on your doorstep and I thought I'd save you the trouble of having to pick them up!" He held them out to the Canadian, _"Ta-dah!" _

"Oh, well, thank you," Matthew smiled and took the roses, another bundle of ten. He really needed to figure out what he was going to do with those. "Um, would you like to come inside? It's kinda cold out..."

"Sure!" Feliciano followed the blonde inside and into the kitchen. "I would have called ahead of time, but I lost my phone, sorry."

"That's alright..." Mattie watched as the Italian shrugged off his too large jacket, "You can just hang that on one of the chairs."

"Okay, thanks!" The bubbly brunette followed the suggestion.

An awkward silence ensued, and Mattie felt compelled to start a conversation, "So... Did you hit any traffic on the way here?"

Italy sat down, prompting the northerner to do the same, "Nope! And I only almost got into four accidents! Ve, normally I almost get into six or seven, that's why Ludwig doesn't let me drive much..."

Canada stared at the older man incredulously, "You almost... _**What?" **_

"But no one got hurt, so it's all good!" Feliciano gestured to the flowers in Mattie's lap, "So, what are you going to do with those?" He looked at the vase already on the table, "I don't think you can fit all of them in there."

Canada titled his head, confused about the Italian in general, "I think I have another—" He cut himself off, "Look, I hate being blunt and I'm sorry if I come across as rude but what exactly are you doing here?"

Feliciano paused for a moment, "Ve... Well since you and Gilbert are friends I thought it would be a good idea if we became friends as well!" A wide smile spread across his face, "And that's exactly what I'm doing here!"

"Really?" If it were anyone else Mattie would have considered the statement to be some sort of twisted joke, but Italy definitely wasn't one to attempt such things, "Why would you want to be friends with me?"

The European paused again, seriously thinking the question over, "Ve, you seem like a really nice person, and chances are we'll be seeing a lot of each other, so if we're friends it'll just save us a whole bunch of awkwardness and make everything easier!"

"I guess you have a point there..."

Italy's voice turned hopeful, "So we're friends?"

Mattie mirrored Feliciano's smile, "I can't see why not." How unexpected, but welcoming all the same. He really appreciated the Italian's kind gesture.

"Yay!" Italy cheered loudly while throwing his arms up in the air, nearly falling off his chair. Once he righted himself he stuck a hand out to Canada, "You can call me Feliciano!"

Said Canadian grasped the hand and gave it a shake, "My name's Matthew," What a wonderful change, to state that name as a fact and not as a correction.

Determination colored the other man's voice, "Ve, I'll do my best to remember!"

He chuckled in response, "Thanks, but don't worry yourself too much, everyone forgets it."

"Gilbert doesn't."

Feliciano clapped a hand over his mouth, surprised that he had said that. Slowly he withdrew his hand and looked down at his lap as Mattie's eyes widened. After a minute the blonde shook his head and softly demanded, "Did he ask you to come here?"

"No!" The Italian's head shot up in alarm, "I came on my own!"

Caramel eyes met blue for a long moment. If Italy was serious about the whole 'friends' thing he wouldn't lie to him... Especially not about Prussia. "Alright, I believe you." Another awkward silence arose as they both shifted uneasily in their seats, "Erm... Can I get you anything? Sorry for not asking earlier, I'm still getting used to the idea of having regular visitors..." He hastily stood up and went over to the fridge, depositing the bouquet he was holding on the counter.

"No thanks, I'm okay..."

Canada nodded to show that he had heard his guest as he got himself a glass of water.

Feliciano glanced at the cup, and then pointed at the roses, "Ve, if you have a large mug and some scissors I know a really cute arrangement you can put those in so you don't have to bring out another vase." Without waiting for a response he hopped up out of his seat and grabbed the bouquet.

"You don't have to—"

"Please let me!" Italy smiled brightly, "That way you can sit and we can talk better... It's easier for me if I have something to do with my hands..."

"Uh... Okay..." Canada fetched a pair of scissors and a white mug for the brunette. Feliciano quickly took a spot at the counter and set to work. He ripped open the plastic around the flowers and laid them all out in a line.

"Ve, how many do you think he's sent you in all?"

"Huh?" Right, the roses... "I'm not really sure... About forty I guess...?"

"And you have exactly fifteen in that vase," Italy observed as he began snipping the stems of each flower, leaving each about six inches long. "Did you know that the meaning of a bouquet changes with the number of roses?" His eyes grew saddened, a rare thing.

Matthew stiffened as he dragged a chair to the opposite side of the counter, "Really? What does fifteen mean? Is it bad?"

The Italian sighed, "Fifteen means, 'I am truly sorry, please forgive me...'" He twirled a rose absentmindedly in his hands, "I sent a bouquet of that size to Ludwig the morning after..." His voice suddenly trailed off; lowering his eyes and slowly looking away in what only could be described as shame.

"Ah..." Mattie murmured in realization. His expression softened as the older man refused to meet his eyes. Canada couldn't bring himself to blame Italy for what happened that night. Deep down he knew that neither of the Italians were at fault. For a while the only sound in the kitchen was that of Feliciano trimming stems, eventually Matthew spoke up again, "So what are some other important bouquet numbers? Does five mean anything?"

"Ve, odds, like one, three, and five simply mean 'I love you' in varied degrees," His friend's eyes lit up as he relayed the information, as if he was eager to share his knowledge on the topic. How easily he shifted from one emotion to another. "I've only bothered to memorize a couple others," He shrugged sheepishly as he picked up the mug and filled one fourth of it with water, "Most people don't really know that the number matters..."

Questions came tumbling out of the Canadian's mouth, honestly curious, "So what do the others mean? How do you know so much?"

Italy chuckled, deciding to answer the second question first, "I have a garden at home."

"You do?" Mattie titled his head at the statement.

"Ve, _why_ does everyone act so surprised when I tell them that?!" A comical whine entered Feliciano's voice, _"Yes,_ I _actually_ do things _other_ than make pasta and siesta a-and... Make pasta." He left out an angry huff before continuing in a softer voice, "I-I did it for Ludwig." Another laugh escaped him, "The first one was an accident, thirteen normally means friendship, but it turns out that in Germany any rose is a declaration of love. Ludwig didn't speak to me for an entire month, and it wasn't until Gilbert explained that I had realized what I'd done."

"Is that when you started your garden?"

Italy nodded, "Originally I was going to send a fifteen and hoped he got the message, but I sat down and really thought about it; and then I realized that I didn't want to apologize, so I sent twenty." He began arranging the cut flowers with careful precision. "That's supposed to mean, 'Believe me. My words are sincere.'" The story of Feliciano chasing the German was well known amongst the other nations simply because everyone had seen it coming. To say that the two were just platonic at that time was like saying England's food was edible. Opinions concerning the two were fairly divided, half the world had been cheering Italy on while the other half told him it wasn't worth the effort.

Canada nodded, urging the brunette to continue. Maybe listening to Feliciano talk more about the roses and his relationship would give him some insight into what France might be trying to do. But the brunette just smiled, fondly recalling the memory. The corners of his mouth twitched the slightest way downwards and he shook his head, "Silly me, I've been talking all this time... I haven't heard a single thing about you!" He carefully picked up the mug by its handle, using his other hand to support its bottom, "Why don't we find a nice spot for the flowers?"

Although confused by the sudden topic change, something told Mattie not to question it. Maybe he could coax the story out later? Disjointed banter seemed to be how Feliciano functioned, so soundly ignoring the odd conversational whiplash the Canadian stood up and followed Italy into the other room.

xxxxx

A sharp whistle cut through sleep's thick hold. Prussia rolled over onto his side, _"Five more minutes, _bruder..." He mumbled in his native tongue. Through the thick haze something began yanking at his hair. "Nien...!" He whimpered, _"Wanna sleep more..."_

Finally a deep voice shattered his slumber, "Vill you vake up and control your bird?! He von't keep quiet!"

The albino shot up, nearly launching Gilbird across the room. The yellow chick started orbiting his head in a frenzy. After several moments of futilely clapping his hands in the air he captured his pet in cupped hands, blinking blearily, "W-Wha—" His jaw stretched with the effort of a yawn, "What's wrong Gil—_OW!"_ His hands flew open and Gilbird rocketed back up into a distressed uproar.

The Prussian let out a weary groan, "Gilbird, it I don't _care_ if you can't see the car anymore, that's _no_ reason to throw an un-awesome fit!" He turned until he saw Germany, "Now can I _please_ go back to—wait a minute," Twin expressions of shock were exchanged between the brothers. Immediately Gilbert threw the covers off of him and dashed to the window. Germany remained stationary, his expression slowly morphing into a horrified sort of realization.

Gilbird beat his owner to the window, absolutely frantic. Prussia swiftly yanked the curtains open to view the parking lot below. C'mon... Third column... Fifth row—

"Um... West?" Gilbert started cautiously, "I think my bird was trying to tell you that the car is gone." The yellow chick let out a series of chirps, "And it's been gone for about twenty minutes."

No reply.

"West...?" The albino turned from the window to see the back of his brother's rigid frame, "West, did you hear me? ...Are you okay...?"

Again the German said nothing, only pulled out his phone. He should have done this sooner, why didn't he do this sooner? He should have called as soon as he thought it was too long. But he didn't, he decided to respect the other's space, give him time to think. It was a mistake to let him go alone, a mistake, a mistake, a _mistake_. Ludwig dialed and held the device up to his ear, waiting. After a few seconds of silence his head suddenly snapped up, his expression perplexed. He ended the call and redialed, setting the phone down several feet away from him.

And that's when Prussia heard it.

A faint buzz, then a pause, then another buzz, pause, buzz. His brother strode over to the shared bed and threw a pillow out of his way. The buzzing grew louder. The blonde was suddenly holding a light blue rectangle in his hand.

Gilbert scratched his head, "Hey... Isn't that—?"

"He asked to borrow my jacket..." Germany cut him off. He gripped the other phone tightly in his hand, panic beginning to paint his face.

"What?" The albino seemed to be lost by the statement. "What does that have to do wit—?"

"The keys vere in my jacket," He muttered it as if stating it aloud would somehow make it untrue, "Feli asked to borrow my jacket... Und the keys vere in my jacket..." His eyes lit up in a conflicting combination of fear and fury.

Finally Gilbert put two and two together, looking both surprised and amused, "Wait, so you're saying that Italy tricked you into giving him the keys to one of the cars? _Italy, _as in can't-drive-in-a-straight-line-even-if-his-life-depended-on-it Italy—"

"He lied about his phone..." Ludwig didn't seem to be hearing his brother at all. "Vhy vould he lie to me und deliberately leave his phone here...?" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to swallow his growing anxiety.

"West," Prussia stated in a warning tone, "It's Italy, he probably just forgot—"

"I _told_ him to bring his phone—"

"_Mien Gott _will you let me finish a damn sentence?!" Red bored into blue, "I'm trying to help you, so stop having a goddamn panic attack and let's go find him!" The albino picked up his own jacket and pulled out an additional set of keys, "This is why we always rent more than one." He threw them at his brother, "Now go start the fucking car while I get my shoes." The command seemed to snap Germany out of his puzzled trance as he rushed out the room. Several minutes later the brothers met up in the car, "Bellhop said he saw a strange brunette leave the lobby a while minutes ago."

"Had to be Feli..." Ludwig mumbled. Within seconds the car was out on the road. Germany was beyond paranoid. Italy wasn't one to keep secrets. He would never do something like this without telling _someone_. Where in the world could he have gone? What could he _possibly_ have to do that was so important that he had to sneak away? Many things plagued the blonde's mind, like lost Italians and fatal crashes and rogue Frenchmen wandering the streets.

He prayed Feliciano was alone.

* * *

><p><strong>So yeah I actually do have the next chapter written (it is being edited as we speak) and as per usual, five reviews will result in the next chapter being posted, assuming my internet is working!<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

"The flowers look great on the computer desk; I really can't thank you enough," Canada pulled a box of pasta out of the pantry and handed it to his companion. "And again I'm really sorry I don't have enough flour to make fresh noodles." Memories of flour and a playful battle filled his thoughts. A joyous laugh and a Prussian's pleading smile. As Mattie turned back to the pantry a light blush blossomed across his face and a twinge of sadness settled in his chest.

Gilbert...

After a moment or two of searching Matthew pulled out a jar of sauce. A flash of red caught the corner of his eyes and he could help but stare. The roses.

"Ve, it was nothing, and for the last time it's okay!" Italy ripped open the box and carefully dumped the noodles into a large pot of boiling water on the Canadian's stove, "I'll write down the recipe for you anyway, and you'll have to call me when you try it out!"

"Okay then, do you still want one of my recipes in exchange?"

The wooden spoon stirring the large pot paused, "Ve...?" The Italian looked completely clueless, causing the younger blonde to chuckle.

"Last time you were over you said we'd do a recipe swap when you visited again."

"We did?" The brunette narrowed his eyes, trying to recall the memory. He gasped, "Oh, we _did!"_ He nodded enthusiastically, "Ve, that would be great!" He put the spoon on the counter next to the stove, "Where do keep your toma—?" He stopped himself when he saw the sauce jar in Canada's hands. He looked from the jar, to the Canadian, back to the jar and to the Canadian several times. His expression clearly asked, 'Why on earth are you holding _that?_' Feliciano took a deep breath, "I need to give you a second recipe." He accepted the sauce held out to him with a look of disdain.

"Why? You don't need to—"

"Friends don't let friends eat this kind of crap," Mattie raised his eyebrows in surprise at the rather strong word. He guessed that the Vargas brothers took their sauce seriously. _"Fratello_ would kill you _and_ me if he found out you ate this," Yep, _very_ seriously. Italy tried opening the jar, "Ve...! This is why I don't like these!" After a minute of struggling he held it back out to Canada. "They don't like me either..."

The blonde let out an amused hum as he quickly opened the offending glassware, "Here."

"I don't wanna touch it," Feliciano quickly washed his hands and went back to stirring the pot, mumbling something that oddly sounded like, "...Can't _believe_ you bought that..."

Canada rolled his eyes and retrieved a small pan from the cabinet. He unceremoniously poured the processed food into the pan and set it on a burner, "I don't get what the big deal is, it's just sauce..."

Italy whipped around and fixed him with a strange look, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." Again, a Vargas took his sauce seriously. If Mattie had said that to Romano, if probably would have been the last thing he had ever done. "Where do you keep your seasonings?" Mattie pointed to the pantry and the brunette went to work. He made a tutting sound as he observed a small collection of equally small containers. The gourmet grabbed the garlic and shook it before opening the lid and taking a whiff. "No good..." He muttered as he set it down on the counter and picked up another, repeating the test. "This one's no good either..." After two more being declared unworthy Feliciano began checking the bottoms of each small jar, "Ve, these all expired eight months ago! No _wonder_ they're terrible!" He went to stir the pot before facing Canada again, curious, "When was the last time you were home?"

Mattie slowly walked over to the counter where Feliciano had set down the spices and placed a hand on the cool surface, as if he missed the feeling of granite beneath his fingertips, "Last week was two years since I had left."

Italy's eyes went wide, "R-Really?! How could you stand being away for so long?! Ve, didn't Big Brother France ever let you visit?!"

"I tried to talk him into going once or twice..." Hearing France fall from Italy's lips somehow stung, but Mattie ignored and shrugged like it was no big deal, "But something always came up and we never really got around to it." He glanced away, a mistake. Red filled his vision as he stared at the roses once again. His gaze dropped to the floor.

The sad tone of his friend's voice warned the brunette to drop the conversation, so he busied himself with cooking. He spooned out a few noodles and threw them against the wall, "Another minute or two and I think the pasta will be done..." He stated aloud.

"Alright..." The blonde's head suddenly perked up, curious about something. "Hey, Feliciano..."

"Ve?" Italy turned to catch Canada staring at the bouquet a third time.

"Can you tell me more about the roses?" He counted backwards from the flowers of his computer desk, back to the first on he found on his doorstep, "What does forty mean?"

"Oh, uh, I think that one means, 'My love for you is genuine,' or something very similar," The older nation went back to the stove, "Why?"

Matthew sighed, "I want to see if he's trying to say something... He'd probably know about the different numbers and different meanings..." But what if it didn't mean anything? Francis enjoyed obvious declarations of love... But it would be so _like _him to leave some hidden message. "What's the largest bouquet that has a meaning?"

"Hold on," Feliciano threw the noodles again. They stuck. "The pasta's done!" Ignoring the strange look he got from the Canadian he lifted the pot and drained it in the sink as Mattie checked the sauce again, it seemed to be well heated enough, and removed the pasta from his kitchen wall. He then got out plates and Italy served it. The brunette rolled his eyes but still ladled sauce onto his dish with a grimace. They sat across from each other at the table, separated by a wall of roses.

"So...?" The blonde prompted.

"Ve, in the words of my _Fratello,_ this tastes like absolute—"

"No, I meant about the bouquets!"

Italy blinked a few times in surprise, "Oh _right..._ Ve, I don't think there's a 'limit' to the amount a roses in a bouquet," He air quoted the word, "But the largest I know of that has a reason is one hundred and eight."

Matthew nodded slowly, "And...?"

"And what?"

"What does it _mean?"_

The Italian paused, reaching across the table and caressing a single bud and then moving the vase to the side. A cheerful grin adorned his face, "It's the same as a marriage proposal."

Marriage. The word drew Mattie up short. Marriage meant loyalty to a single person. Monogamy. Monogamy and Francis? The thought was hilarious. Both of the men in the room could attest to that. What was Matthew thinking? Francis would never be able to orchestrate something like that. He wouldn't be gradual with the roses; he would throw them all at once in one grand tour de force. Something showy and flashy and seductive and... Sincere. If Francis ever did something like that he would mean it. When they were together Mattie had witnessed a part of the Frenchman that could truly love—_truly_ love, not just lust—and that part of him would make that moment wonderful and beautiful and completely unforgettable.

Maybe it was that part of Francis that was trying to reach him...?

Matthew stopped himself. No. Absolutely not. He cheated, moving on.

"You seem to like that number," Canada commented on his friend's expression as he finally began to eat.

Italy slurped up a long noodle, "I have plans for it," He answered with a shy smile.

"Ah," Mattie didn't press for details, but had a good idea what Feliciano meant. The conversation ceased as their appetites grew, with Italy well into his third plate when Canada finished his first. The blonde's pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone.

Take call from N. Italy?

He showed the caller ID to his companion. Feliciano paled. He swallowed his current mouthful of pasta and let out a shaky breath, "V-Ve... You can a-answer it." Immediately the Italian's gaze darted downward and he began to chew his bottom lip. A look that clearly said, 'I'm in trouble.'

The Canadian hit the Talk button, expecting the worst, "Hello?"

"Birdie?"

"Gil?" Why did it suddenly feel so awkward? Matthew cursed his poor social skills.

"Yeah, um... Hi," Prussia then suddenly shouted, _"Dammit West, slow the fuck down!"_ There was a pause, then Gilbert stated, "So... We kinda need your help with something."

Help? What kind of help? Feliciano looked like he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table and disappear. "Uh, sure, what's up?"

Prussia let out a heavy sigh, "I'm going to be blunt, Italy ran off and West's about ready to declare war in order to find him. He wants to know if you know if there are any popular places in the city he could have gone."

Canada glanced at the brunette, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned, before deciding to go with the bemused truth, "What are you talking about? Feliciano's been over at my place for the past half-hour or so, we even made pasta."

Italy winced apologetically, "I didn't tell them where I was going..."

Ah, that made sense, "It's okay," Canada mouthed in response.

"...Are you kidding me?!" Gilbert sounded pissed, "You've _got_ to be kidding me! I put myself in a car with _mien bruder_, who has the _mother_ of all sticks shoved up his ass right now, and he's been with you this _entire_ fucking time?!"

There was a very audible screeching noise that could only be described as Germany slamming on the brakes.

That poor car.

It was loud enough for Italy to hear. He cringed.

"_Warn me before you do something like that, asshole!"_ Gilbert sounded like he was in pain.

"You okay?" Mattie asked cautiously.

"Yeah," He could almost hear the wince in the Prussian's voice, "Slammed my head on the dashboard... Not awesome..."

"You're not wearing a seatbelt, are you?"

A long pause, "...No."

The blonde shook his head, "Then you deserved it."

"Ouch, that's cold Birdie!"

Canada finally started laughing, "It's your own fault!"

With the knowledge that Feliciano was okay, the conversation became much lighter with Canada relaying directions back to the house. "Okay so we made the third left..." The albino's tone perked up, "Oh, West recognizes the road we're on! Awesome!" Uncertainty made itself known_, "...Are you sure it's the right one? You've only been there—okay fine I'll shut up..." _Gilbert then murmured into his phone, "...Someone's on his man period..." He then raised his volume to a normal level of awesomeness, "Alright Birdie, I'm going to go since West apparently knows where we are, the Awesome Me will be arriving in about seven minutes!"

"Wait, but you've already driven here twice; shouldn't you be more familiar with the roads?" There was a click, "Gil?" No answer, "Gilbert?" Mattie sighed, looking at Feliciano with disbelief, "He hung up on me."

"O-Oh... he did?" Italy let out a nervous laugh but it quickly shorted to a few panicked breaths before he suddenly blurted out, "I lied to Ludwig saying that I needed to think about something when I really didn't need to think about anything because I never really think about anything and he should _know_ I never need that kind of time to think but I went out and I took his jacket because I know Ludwig always leaves his car keys in his jacket and he left the map in the car and I wanted to see if I could drive here so Pr—" He clamped his mouth shut for a moment, but continued as if he couldn't help it, "I-I lied and left my phone behind on purpose so they could find me here even though I _promised_ Ludwig I would bring it with me and now he's _really_ angry—Ve, _I'm sorry! !" _Italy shook his head repeatedly, dissolving into sobs, _"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'm__—__!"_

"W-whoa!" Mattie waved his arms in a defensive position, "C-Calm down! I-It's okay, really!" Panic began to creep upon him, "Germany... H-he can't be that mad now, can he...?" Feliciano fell silent but began to sniffle, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. "Ah...! P-Please don't cry!" Matthew reached across the table and grabbed the brunette's almost empty plate, "Uh... Would you like some more pasta? I-I'll get some for you, just don't cry!" He hurried across the room and began scooping still-warm noodles onto the dish.

"Why are you making so much noise?" Italy stopped sobbing and looked towards the entrance of the kitchen, where a polar bear cub was now making his entrance. His voice sounded curious but also annoyed and he plopped himself down in the middle of the floor, staring at the two humans expectantly.

Canada sighed as he began to turn back to the table with Italy's pasta in hand, "Kuma, now's not the best time to—"

"Who are you?"

Italy tilted his head, "Ve, I'm Feli—"

"I know who _you_ are..." Kumajiro stated while rolling his eyes. He faced the room's other occupant, "Who are _you?"_

"I'm Canada..."

Feliciano leapt out of his seat and knelt down next to the bear, scooping him up in his arms and squealing happily, "You never said you had such a cute pet! What's its name?"

Matthew arched an eyebrow at the sight, "Well, you sure cheered up fast," He muttered while he set the plate of food on the table. In all honesty he was surprised that the Italian wasn't freaking out over the fact that the bear had just spoken perfect English. "His name's Kilimanjaro—"

"Actually it's Kumajiro," The cub corrected, "He never gets it right."

Italy laughed and stood up, cradling Kumajiro, "How come I didn't meet you the first time I was over?"

Mattie began wrapping up the leftover pasta, "He's not too fond of being near loud people, no offense."

"Oh," Italy's voice dropped to a whisper, "Sorry..." He returned to his seat and glanced at the plate of noodles in front of him, "Can he eat people food?"

"Yeah, he eats regular food all the time." The younger nation continued to clean up as Feliciano contented himself with hand feeding Kumajiro pasta noodles, giggling and cooing softly in Italian. The minutes ticked by.

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!_

Paying the Italian's small squeak of alarm no mind Canada moved to answer the door, "Hi...!" He greeted the German brothers as he opened the door wide, "Come on in!"

"Birdie!" Prussia pulled his friend in for a brief hug. His tone was light and friendly and not awkward at all. It was like yesterday's visit never happened. They entered with Germany leading and already craning his neck to catch a glimpse of a certain wayward brunette.

"Feli?" The older blonde's voice sounded irritated.

Matthew quickly reentered to the kitchen, trying to prevent any arguments from starting, "Wow, it's been getting cold lately. How have..." His attempt at starting a conversation trailed off as he saw Italy flinch, Germany laying eyes on him at last.

Ludwig cast a strange look at Kumajiro before turning back to Feliciano. A short silence ensured before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a light blue phone, "I believe you forgot something." He seemed like he was trying to hold back his anger as he placed—blurring the line between placed and slammed—the phone on the table.

"Ve..." Feliciano held the polar bear tighter, as if he could blend into that white fur, "Oops...?"

"_Ja,_ 'Oops,'" He glanced at Canada with an exasperated sigh, "Vill you two _please _explain vhat is going on here?!"His voice edged towards a shout.

Feliciano flinched again, "W-well... I, um, wanted to, ve, I-I—"

"Italy and I were doing a recipe swap," Matthew quickly cut in, hoping that would suffice as an answer, "What's so bad about that?"

"What's so bad?" The German deadpanned before rounding on his partner, "You lied to me, stole my jacket und one of the cars—!"

"West, relax will ya?" Gilbert placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, but he was promptly shrugged off.

"I-I'm sorry...!"Italy buried his face in Kumajiro's back.

"_For God's sake stop hiding behind that damn bear und tell me vhat's going on!"_

"Okay, th-that's enough!" Canada forced his way in front of Feliciano, "There will be no fighting in my house! If you want to yell at him, take it outside!" He took his bear from Italy, "And I don't appreciate you referring to Karmakiri—"

"Kumajiro," Said cub stated.

"—Like that!"

There was a tense moment as the two blondes glared at each other, then Germany folded his arms and scowled. He took a deep breath and said in a slightly calmer voice directed at Italy, "If you wanted to visit, you should have just told me."

The brunette nudged past Matthew, "Ve... I know y-you would have said n-no, so I went on my own... I'm sorry..."

Prussia clapped his hands together, "So that settles it!"

His brother looked at him in confusion, "That doesn't settle anything—"

"Sure it does!" The albino insisted, "Italy came to hang out with the awesomeness that is Birdie, we found him safe and sound, and he's sorry for not telling ya sooner, problem awesomely solved!" There was a peeping noise, "See and Gilbird agrees, too, so I _have_ to be right, right?"

"Now vait a minute_—"_

Gilbert sat against the counter, "So, what did you guys do, other than the whole recipe thingamajig?"

"Ve! That reminds me!" Italy turned back to Canada, desperately trying to keep the conversation rolling as to not give Germany a chance to speak, "I never wrote them down for you!"

Mattie began to head to the other room, "I think there's some paper on my computer desk, I'll—"

"I got it!" Feliciano fled the room.

There was a moment, then Ludwig heaved another—albeit exhausted—sigh, "So, vhat recipe is he giving you?"

It took a second before the Canadian realized the question was for him, "Hmm...? Oh, he's giving me one for pasta, and another one for sauce."

"Birdie!" Gilbert butted in, "You should definitely give him your awesome pancake recipe in return!"

"Well yeah, I was planning to," Canada's voice became playfully angry, "I would have shown him how to make some if _someone_ didn't use up all of my flour yesterday!"

"Whoa!" Prussia held up his hands, "If I remember correctly, it was _you_ who started the fight."

Germany arched an eyebrow, "So _you're_ the reason vhy the driver's seat was covered in flour?"

"Yeah..." Canada rubbed his neck sheepishly, "Sorry about that..."

Italy finally reentered the room with two pieces of paper and a pen in hand, "Found them!" He placed the papers on the counter and immediately began writing. Matthew and Gilbert picked up a conversation while curiosity made Ludwig glance over the shoulder of his brunette partner. By then the two recipes were scribbled down and were being passed off to the Canadian while Germany looked on in confusion. Another recipe was written in return and Italy suddenly grabbed his boyfriend's jacket, "Ve, we better be heading back, right Ludwig?"

"...Vhat?"

Gilbert let out a whine, "But we just got here!"

The Mediterranean nation pulled a set out keys out of the jacket, "Well then you can have these and come back to the hotel later!" He rushed over to Canada and gave him a hug, "Ve, _Ciao!"_ He patted Kumajiro on the head before tossing the keys at Prussia and grabbing Germany's arm. "Okay, you found me, let's go!"

Germany was no idiot; he knew what Feliciano was trying to do. Regardless, he allowed himself to be pulled out of the house, warning his brother not to stay too late. As soon as the pair was outside he shot a half-hearted glare at his Italian, "You planned that."

They climbed into the car, "M-Maybe..." Italy looked worried, "Are you mad at me?"

"Maybe," The car was put in drive, and curiosity overcame the blonde, "Vhich sauce recipe did you give to Canada?" It certainly didn't look like Feli's usual, the German was certain of that.

"What do you mean by—?" A stronger glare cut him off, Italy knew damn well what he meant. "V-Ve, I... I might have given him _Nonno's..."_

They stopped at a red light and Germany stared at the smaller man, dumbstruck, "You gave him _Rome's_ recipe?!" Italy flinched and nodded cautiously, confirming it. Ludwig fought the urge to face palm, instead gripping the steering wheel tightly, "You just don't know where to stop, do you?"

* * *

><p><strong>Yay update! Sorry this is a bit late, I started feeling sick, fell asleep early, and then school happened (I <strong>_**really**_** should be working on my Journalism Article right now, but that's beside the point eheheh...) I love Feli so much in this chapter, but fortunately come Chapter 13 the focus will be back on Canada. Awesome Points to whoever figures out the significance of the sauce recipe! Hopefully the ending isn't too awkward, I really just wanted to get the chapter done.**

**Now as for future updates, I don't think I'll be able to post again this month because midterms are right around the corner and in the beginning of February my acting class is putting on a show, so I won't be able to post then either. So perhaps by the second week of February I might have something written. I hope. Ideally I'd like to update at least twice a month from now on (since the whole once a week thing kinda blew up in my face). **

**I'd really like to see five or more reviews before I finish the next chapter, see you all in February! And thanks a lot to those who have been Reviewing, Fave-ing and Alerting, that means the world to me.**


	13. Chapter 13

Silence reigned as the front door shut and Matthew looked to his friend with concern, "...Is everything going to be okay with those two?"

Prussia laughed at the question, "Yeah they'll be fine, West's been paranoid about Italy ever since..." He trailed off with a frown.

"That night?" Canada offered his expression unreadable.

The albino winced, "Yeah... That." A pause, "But now Italy's safe, West cooled off and everything's awesome!"

Mattie simply nodded in response, picking up the plate Feliciano left on the table and journeying over to the sink. The lull in conversation quickly grew into an uncomfortable quiet not unlike the feeling from the phone call earlier. It was strange, the Canadian wanted to speak but could find anything to say, he was at less of a loss for words and more aware of the fact that there seemed to be nothing to talk about.

Prussia leaned against the counter, "Want some help?"

"No, I got it."

"Alright then..." Prussia meandered around the kitchen and into the living room. Everything seemed sparsely decorated, which made sense knowing that Mattie hadn't been there in so long, but it didn't stop the bare walls from giving off a distinct feeling of loneliness. Gilbert traced a hand aimlessly over the wallpaper at his side, stopping when he felt something graze his fingertips. Closer inspection revealed a small hole, with similar ones spaced about a foot above and to either side of it, "Hey, did you used to hang pictures over here?"

"Over where? Hang on a sec..." Plates clinked together and were followed by the squeal of a cabinet door. Canada quickly made his way to his friend's side and Prussia pointed at the holes. "Oh, there... I used to have some shelves mounted, but Kurajackie kept climbing on top of them and knocking things over so I had to take them down."

"Did you ever hang pictures?"

The blonde paused for a moment, thinking back, "No, not really..."

"Do you even _have_ pictures?"

"Of course I do!" Mattie seemed offended by the question, "I have lots of pictures..."

Shortly afterwards came the inevitable "Where?" Which prompted Mattie to run upstairs and return with an armful of photo albums. The next hour passed in a flurry of pictures and memories spread out on the living room floor. "Hey, what's this one?" Gilbert held up a loose photo depicting Matthew and his brother with a large snowman between them.

Canada couldn't suppress a chuckle, "Notice anything?"

The albino scrutinized the photo and noticed the twins had positively shit-eating grins on their faces. Finally he saw it and nearly died of laughter. Three small twigs had been placed above each eye, giving the impression that the snowman had rather impressive eyebrows.

"It was Al's idea..." Mattie insisted as he paged through another book, "Here's his wedding," He showed a few pictures of the small 'bridal' party in front of a quaint British chapel. The happy couple was situated in the middle with Japan, Hungary and Greece on their left and Canada with France on their right. "Greece presided over the ceremony, it was wonderful... I really wished they allowed more people to come," He frowned suddenly, "The reception was a disaster though, Arthur's brothers decided to crash."

"_Kesesese~_ Toni and I were planning on joining 'em and hanging with France, but West stopped us."

"Good thing he did. You didn't want to be there, trust me."

"That bad, huh?"

The Canadian simply nodded once more and continued looking through the albums, stopping every once in a while to relay an interesting and sometimes hilarious anecdote. Another book Gilbert perused revealed various ridges and snowcapped mountains. The first page was titled _'Mount Logan, Canada'_ followed by a picture of said mountain. Underneath it was a self-taken photo of Mattie holding his bear standing on what seemed to be the peak. Finishing the page was the view from that point and a note stating _'5,959m, 09/16/1987'_ The next page was of a similar format, entitled _'Mount Elbert, USA.'_ After that was _'Ben Nevis, Scotland'_ and _'Mont Blanc/Monte Bianco, France/Italy.' _

"You climbed all of these?" The albino seemed awestruck.

Mattie took one look at the page and smiled shyly, "Yeah, that's my hiking album. Kumakokoro and I used to all the time."

"That is so awe—" Gilbert cut himself off, "Wait, _used to?_ What stopped ya?"

Canada just shrugged, and was silent for a few moments before asking, "Erm... Could I see that? If you don't mind, I mean..."

"Sure thing, Birdie!"

"Thanks, I haven't looked through this in forever," He stood up, "I'm gonna show Kuma, be right back..." He left the room, leaving his friend alone with the albums. Prussia grabbed a red one next to where Mattie was sitting, the only one of the four left untouched.

He sat on the couch and flipped it open to a random page. There were two tickets, reading _Le Fantôme de l'Opéra_ coupled with the image of a grand playhouse. There were a few pictures of its lavish inside, and a giant chandelier then several more from an angle that only could be achieved from balcony seats. He turned the page to see the cover of the playbill followed by pictures of the cast. Opposite those was a more shadowed photo taken during the show. It portrayed the barely lit profile of a suave looking man—

It was France.

There came a peeping from the Prussian's pocket and Gilbird wriggled his way out of the jacket and roosted on his master's head, "I was wondering when you'd come out..." He continued through the red album, there was a picture of the older blonde sitting at a table with a cheerful smile, one where he was sitting at a desk and starting at several papers, deep in thought and frustrated. Another was of a birthday cake and the Frenchman surrounded by several wild party-goers, Prussia surprisingly spotting himself in the corner. Gilbird let out a curious chirp, "Yeah, that surprise party a few years back... Birdie was in charge of that..." He kept turning pages: a day at the beach, a fireworks show with America, a park in autumn. Each photo had France as its centerpiece. There was Halloween, a large family dinner that seemed to be going haywire, the Eiffel Tower covered in snow, an elaborate Christmas tree in a grand chateau—

A hand entered Gilbert's vision and covered the next page, startling him. His head snapped up, meeting forlorn orbs of blue. Without a word Mattie gently pulled it away and stood there awkwardly for a moment before mumbling, "...I brought this one down by mistake... Excuse me..." And slipping away once more. The albino stared after in confusion.

He wasn't supposed to see those.

Shit.

A minute later the blonde returned carrying his bear, at that time Gilbird decided to take flight and perch on Kumajiro's head, peeping cheerfully. Matte laughed softly, "Hello to you, too." The polar bear made an irritated noise and tried to shake Gilbird off, prompting him to fly back over to his owners head. "So... What do you want to do now...?"

Gilbert looked to the remaining pair of albums on the floor, then to the wall. A smile began to spread across his face, this would be interesting, "We're gonna awesomely hang up some of your pictures!" He stood up and surveyed the room, "Hmm... There." He pointed to the wall where the shelves used to be, "That's where we're gonna put 'em."

Gilbird tittered in agreement while Canada titled his head, "Uh, okay, I guess it would be nice... What do you think Kimijura—?"

"It's Kumajiro..." The bear reminded before voicing his approval of the plan.

Prussia was beaming by that point, "Then let's find some frames and awesomely get to work!" He shrugged off his hoodie and tossed it on the back of the couch, "So where are your frames?"

"I might have some up in the attic..." Mattie set his bear down on the couch before moving to leave the living room, "...Follow me." He led his friend upstairs and to a hallway closet, which he opened and pulled down a ladder from a hatch on the ceiling, "Just warning you now, it's probably really dusty up there..."

"Nothing The Awesome Me can't handle!" As they climbed up small puffs of dust were shaken off the ladder, "How long has it been since you were up here?"

"...I can't remember—" The younger nation broke off into a series of coughs as he looked around his attic, "Try not to breath in too deep..." He wheezed.

Boxes were scattered and stacked at random intervals, each with a decent coat of dust. Gilbert began with the stack closest to him, "Man, if West saw this he have a fucking aneurysm." Laughing led to another coughing fit on both their parts, so the albino decided to keep his awesome observations to a minimum. They each took a side of the dusty room and began rummaging through various boxes. Prussia started with the boxes in the furthest corner and moved along the wall.

Knickknacks, VHS tapes, moth-eaten colonial clothes, some journals, a cracked spyglass, a broken compass, a backpack and some hiking gear that looked more worn than aged, a yellowing stack of newspapers written mostly in French, an old-fashioned first aid kit, a broken musket, some military supplies, a Mountie's uniform—

Wait, what?

No, not relevant, maybe he'd ask about that some other time.

More old tapes, ice skates and a hockey stick, a cassette player, some vinyl records, a Christmas tree and other seasonal decorations, a rusted music stand, sheet music, apparently Birdie tried teaching himself how to play a few instruments, but gave up. A dusty guitar case, a flute and a small violin that looked absolutely ancient. Still, no photo frames.

Finally Mattie found a pitiful assortment of frames across the room, but most were small ones meant to be placed on a shelf or desk, and the only one large enough for Gilbert to consider had shattered glass. The albino sneezed and suddenly decided that he didn't want to waste time searching anymore. "Alright, we're heading back downstairs and getting our coats."

"Coats? Why—?"

"We're going out and I'm buying you an awesome frame!" He hurried down the ladder, leaving Canada no choice but to follow. "Hurry up!" By the time the younger man had reached the foyer Gilbert already had his jacket on and all but threw his friend's at him. Mattie quickly pulled it on and was unceremoniously dragged out the door.

"W-Wait! We don't even know what store—!"

"Not a problem Birdie! The Awesome Me will find it!"

"At least let me lock the door!"

Prussia let out a groan, "Fine..." After Birdie secured the house they ran to Gilbert's car and climbed in.

"Are you sure we shouldn't look up—?"

"Birdie..." The albino started the car and faced his friend, "Trust me, we'll find a store."

Prussia turned his eyes back to the road and put the vehicle in drive. Watching the houses fly by Canada simply relaxed into the passenger's seat and fought back his uncertainty.

Gilbert had started them off going in wrong direction.

He probably should have taken that last right.

He really should stop at the stop signs; they were put there for a reason.

And he was speeding.

But Mattie trusted him.

Inside the house Kumajiro walked into the foyer with Gilbird sitting carefully on his head, "They left without us..." He sat down and glared at the door, Gilbird let out a sad whistle in reply. After a minute the bear got back up and returned to the living room, climbing up onto the couch and curling up. His new feathery companion situated himself in his fur as he yawned. The polar bear scratched behind his ear, "Seriously, how do you put up with him being so loud all the time?" Gilbird chirped defensively, prompting Kumajiro to roll his eyes. "Alright, I guess I could... Get used to it..." He let out another yawn before fully settling down for his nap. "You have really strange friends..."

xxxxx

It was nearly seven before they stumbled upon a store that had what they needed. It was an art store situated in a lesser shopping district whose hours dictated that it would be closing very soon. Undaunted the pair entered and was greeted by a solitary clerk.

"_Welcome, may I help you two?"_ Gilbert stopped short; the clerk was speaking in French.

Fortunately Mattie answered without missing a beat, _"Yes, my friend and I are looking for some picture frames, where might we find them?"_

He pointed towards the back, and Canada quickly relayed the information, "Go straight until you reach the paints and take a left, there's an entire aisle for them."

"Wait, aren't you coming with me?"

"I gotta grab a couple other things; I'll be with you in a second..."

"But Birdie—"

For once Canada's voice had a slight edge, "We wasted enough time trying to find this place, and I don't wanna waste any more."

"Okay, fine..." Prussia held up his hands in a defensive position before turning and heading to the back of the store, he turned at the display of colorful acrylics and faced the racks of frames.

Mattie shook his head and looked at the clerk, _"By any chance do you sell photo paper and ink cartridges, too?"_

"_I'm afraid we don't, but there's an office supplies store not too far from here that should still be open,"_ He wrote the address and directions down on a notepad, tore off the page, and handed it to his fellow Canadian.

"_Ah, thank you!" _

"Birdie!" Prussia was carrying a large black frame, "I found one that's awesome enough for your wall!" Actually it was the first one he saw, but hey, it worked. It was a multiple picture frame, with a space for one large photo in the center and ten additional spaces around it of varying sizes.

Mattie took one look at it and replied, "Perfect," As the clerk prepared to ring them up.

"One sec," His friend ran back to the paints where a small stand of paint brush sets sat. He grabbed a pack a ran back to the register and explained in a hurried breath, "Feli's birthday was a couple weeks ago and I forgot about it and I remember he said something about needing new brushes and these look pretty awesome so... Yeah." He handed them to the clerk.

"_Will that be all?"_

"_Oui,"_ Canada dug out his wallet and began to pull out some cash, stopping and wincing when he saw the total. He quickly yanked out his credit card and swiped it before Gilbert could pull out his own. For a price like that, those paintbrushes better be as awesome as the albino thought they were.

"H-Hey!" The older nation protested, "Not awesome! I thought I was gonna pay, Birdie!"

"I forgot..." Mattie blatantly lied as he signed a copy of the receipt and took the frame, "Can you grab the brushes and the door for me?" Gilbert grumbled but did what was asked of him and they exited the store.

"_Have a nice night!"_ The clerk called out.

"_Thanks, you too!" _

They walked to the car in silence and Prussia unlocked the trunk. "Please don't be mad..." Canada pleaded at they worked to situate the frame.

Red eyes softened, "I'm not mad," The trunk closed with a heavy _thunk_, "I just owe you for the brushes,"

The blonde smiled, "Tell you what; let me drive and we'll call it even."

"What?"

"...And you have to say the brushes were from me, too."

Prussia took a step towards the driver side, "Why do you wanna drive? I mean I know the car's awesome but—"

"Gil..." The younger nation sounded exhausted, "We still have another stop, and I want to get home. Please give me the keys."

"No," Gilbert playfully hugged the keys to his chest, "My rental car, my rules. I drive."

Canada rolled his eyes, "My _country_, my rules," He held his hand out expectantly, "I drive."

"I don't know," The albino adopted a teasing tone.

Mattie took a deep breath, "Oh almighty awesome Gilbert, please bestow upon me the keys to the vehicle of awesomeness so that we may complete our awesome quest."

...Impressive.

The albino smirked, "Alright, you win this time," He tossed the keys to his friend, "Though I think you could have fit a _few_ more 'awesomes' into that sentence."

"Sure..." Mattie chuckled, "Let's just go already!"

"Why the rush?"

"I need to get home before eight; Karmakichi's become very particular about when he gets fed."

With Canada behind the wheel it only took a few minutes for them to arrive at their final stop. He convinced Prussia to wait in the car while he ran in and returned a short while later, "Sorry if I took too long, I wanted to be sure I had the right kind of paper..." They arrived home quarter to eight, carefully maneuvering the frame through the front door and into the living room. Mattie gasped quietly, "Look..." He pointed to the corner of the couch where their pets were seen snoozing.

"Wow..." Prussia muttered, "Gilbird doesn't normally take naps... You're bear must be comfy."

The blonde crept out the room and into his makeshift office. He snatched his camera left next to his computer he dashed back to the living room and snapped a picture of the two. "Lazy furball..." He whispered affectionately.

The flash of the camera startled Gilbird from his slumber, and he flew up with a shrill whistle, waking up Kumajiro as well. "Wuz goin'on...?" He blinked at his master sleepily, "...Who're you...?"

"I'm Canada and it's time for dinner."

The statement instantly woke the bear up, "We should have what's left of the pasta." He rolled off the couch and padded into the kitchen, "What are you waiting for?"

The blonde turned to Gilbert, "Do you want leftover pasta?"

"Sure, why not?"

The two nations sat at the table while their pets sat on the counter, Kumajiro was contentedly slurping up noodles and Gilbird pecking at some bread.

The Prussian made an odd face when he first tasted the pasta, "Did Italy make this?"

"He helped..."

His voice turned cautious, "Did _you_ make this?"

"It's not made from scratch, if that's what you're wondering."

"Oh thank _Gott_," Relief spread over his face, "So you won't be offended if I say this tastes like shit, right? 'Cuz this tastes like _shit."_

Mattie sighed, "So I've heard..."

Gilbert backpedalled, "I mean, compared to what Italy can make it tastes like shit but for pasta made from store ingredients you did a pretty awesome job—"

"Stop," The blonde held up a hand, "Just stop." They finished off the pasta in silence and the older nation offered to do the dishes as a sign of apology. "I can do them myself... Why do you keep acting like I'm upset?"

Prussia scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Because I'm a _Dummkopf _and sometimes I say really unawesome things..."

"_Sometimes?"_ Canada asked incredulously. He snickered at his friend's reaction, "Just kidding, I know you don't mean to." They worked together to clean the dishes and Kumajiro's mess ("Alright, _someone's_ getting a bath tonight...") and finally started on the picture frame. First thing was actually choosing the photos. Mattie spied his camera on the couch where he left it, "Hey Gil..."

"Hmm...?" He looked up from the album he was paging through.

"Smile!" The flash went off and the Prussian was caught off guard.

He quickly frowned in response, "You can't use that one."

"Why not?"

"Because that picture does not awesomely capture my awesomeness!"

A few more photos were taken, and when Gilbert was convinced to finally stop posing they set the timer on Mattie's camera and hurried to sit next to each other on the couch. It took a couple tries to get it right but they eventually got a good one with Prussia's arm around Canada's shoulders and flashing a V-for-victory sign. They sat back down and picked out the remaining photos to be put in the frame. The one in the center was of Canada and his brother with an explosion of fireworks going in the sky behind them, "Japan took that one for us, he's really good with cameras." The rest consisted of family photos and upon Prussia's insistence the one with the North American twins and the snowman was chosen. They scanned all the photos into the computer and printed them out in the necessary sizes. The fireworks image was placed in the center with the picture of the two friends beneath it. The other pictures were placed and the back of the frame was secured.

Canada ran to his garage to fetch a hammer and some nails from the garage and while he was gone Prussia slipped back into the office and printed out an extra copy of the picture of Mattie and he on the couch, slipping it inside the bag with Feliciano's paintbrushes.

The blonde returned with the needed tools plus a balance so they wouldn't hang the picture crooked. Once the places were marked Gilbert _insisted_ that he be the one to awesomely hammer the nails in place, and it was only after hitting his thumb a grand total of five times did he give up and let Mattie handle it. "You can have the honor of hanging it," He offered as he secured the second and last nail.

His friend jumped at the opportunity, effortlessly lifting the frame and placing it on its hangings. They both took a step back to admire their handiwork. The older nation only had one word for it: "Awesome."

Canada looked to the clock, it was half past ten, "Huh, I didn't expect it to take so long..."

Prussia face fell when he saw the time, "Damn..." He became thoughtful, "How pissed do you think West would be if I stayed another hour?"

Mattie folded his arms, "Judging by what I'd seen of him... He'd definitely be upset..." Understatement. It would be wise for the albino to leave but Canada didn't want to be the one to say it. Eventually it was Gilbird who let out a warning chirp.

"Okay..." Prussia grumbled as he grabbed his bag. A sharp whistle answered him, "I said _okay!_" He let out a groan, "Gilbird says that we need to get going..."

"Really...?" Regrettably Mattie was forced to walk with Gilbert to the door. Gilbird tweeted a farewell from atop his master's head as the Canadian pulled him into a hug. "See you tomorrow?"

"_Kesesese~_ you can awesomely count on it!" He walked slowly to his car, stuck his hand into his pocket they withdrew it, perplexed. Mattie quickly realized what was wrong as he grabbed his coat and pulled out a set of keys. He ran out front and Gilbert met him halfway.

"Sorry, I forgot to give these back..."

He laughed again, "Trying to keep the awesome me here longer? Clever, Birdie."

The blonde felt his cheeks warm, "I wasn't trying to—"

"Relax! I'm just messing with ya!" He pushed Mattie playfully. Gilbird repeated his warning chirp, "Alright already, time to go, I _get_ it!" He opened the car door, "_Gott,_ you're starting to sound like West..." He pouted, "Well, see ya Birdie."

"Bye..." Mattie stood on the curb and waved as the albino pulled away. He trudged back inside, the house seemed too quiet now. His feet carried him back to the living room and he found himself staring at the collection of pictures mounted on the wall. After a moment or two he tore himself away and called out, "Kuma! Bath time!" He found his bear loitering around the bottom of the steps and scooped him up.

"Did you enjoy your time with Gilbird?"

"I don't know, we just slept the entire time..."

They reached the top of the stairs and entered the master bedroom, "Huh, I guess that's okay. Do you want a bubble bath tonight?"

"Yes!" Kumajiro loved bubbles.

Mattie flipped on the light and set his bear down, "Go wait in the bathroom, I'll be with you in a second." Last time he had sent the bear to get a towel he had tipped over the hamper and gotten trapped under it. His pet scampered off as he turned towards the hamper by his bed.

He froze.

On the bedspread laid a single red rose.

* * *

><p><strong>I really need to stop being such a fail when it comes to updating when I say I will, sorry about that... Hopefully this last sentence twistcliffhanger thing makes up for it! **

**I'm also sorry to say that I don't know when I'll be updating next time either... I recently got casted as the female lead in my school's spring play and my class's senior trip is coming up, but who knows maybe I won't have Writer's Block as badly this time around and I'll get it up soon, only time will tell. *bricked for clichéd phrase* **

**Anyway, I absolutely LOVED writing this chapter (thank you aphfangirl7476 for beta-ing!)! I've been waiting to use that last sentence since chapter 8! I wasn't really sure how to approach it but I think the simple, blunt delivery worked very well. Thoughts?**

**Thanks again to all who are reviewing, you all are wonderful!**

**See you soon? (Hopefully maybe might)**

**Random Poll: Team Gilbird or Team Kumajiro?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Wow, I am so sorry that this took so long. I'm not going to waste any more of your time by explaining what happened, I just hope that this chapter can make up for the obnoxiously long wait.**

* * *

><p>xxxxx<p>

Three Years Prior...

xxxxx

"_You're leaving early...?" The younger blonde was saddened and distressed, "B-But you promised you'd stay for another week..."_

"_I know, I know..." Francis absentmindedly swirled his wine glass, crestfallen, "You 'ave no idea 'ow sorry I am, Mathieu..." _

_Indignation bubbled up in the Canadian's chest, "Well it's not fair...! There has to be some way I could help..."_

"Mon lapin,_ my country's affairs are my own, I could not let you 'elp even if I wanted to."_

_Matthew was hurt; this was Francis's first time visiting him in what felt like forever, why did his boss pick _now_ of all times to go on a political trip? "He had no right to dump that much work on you..."_

_The older nation shook his head in defeat, "If I am needed, zen I am needed, I cannot fight zat."_

"_Your boss could go to the meeting without you... I mean, just look at my boss, he and my government can function perfectly fine without me, why can't yours...?" _

_France shrugged, "It is tradition... One zat even your brother observes."_

_Mathieu let out a frustrated huff, "That's because he's _America..._ He _has_ to be with his boss because he's the hero and the leader of the free world and he's just... America."_

_His companion looked on curiously, "Why are you so irritated when you say zat?"_

"_I'm not irritated," The younger nation averted his gaze._

"_Mathieu..."_

_He folded his arms and rested his head on them, reluctantly deciding to vent to the European, "Because he and everyone else are always up and doing everything with their bosses while I pretty much sit here and do nothing...!"_

"_Now one can never truly 'sit and do nothing' as you say," Francis took a sip of his drink, "But it seems much more desirable zan to be at another's beck and call, no?" He paused for several long moments, before stating with a wistful smile, "I envy you, _cher."

"_It's really not that great," Canada insisted, "It's—"_

"_Quiet?" The older man suddenly suggested. "Peaceful?" With longing he regarded the walls around them, "Serene? Wonderfully at ease?" He shook his head, "You 'ave no idea 'ow lucky you are..." He sighed, "It pains me to leave such a soothing place..."_

_Matthew tilted his head, bemused. His guest drained what remained of his wine glass. "You... Like it here?"_

"'_Ow can I not? Your 'ome is gorgeous—"_

"_Not nearly as gorgeous as yours—"_

"_Ah, but you 'ave a more natural gorgeousness..." Red dusted the Canadian's cheeks, "See? I am correct, _non?"_ Francis caressed his young friend's face and fixed a blonde hair that had fallen out of place, "When one is surrounded by such beauty zey cannot 'elp but forget about zeir troubles..." _

_That red dusting turned into a full blown blush as Mattie sputtered, "Uh... Thank you—"_

"Why don't you speak to me in French, _mon chéri?_ It suits you so much more zan England's 'arsh tongue."

"Really...? Ah, Merci..."_ He reached towards the Frenchman's empty glass, _"Could I get you more wine—?"

"_Non, non _I should start gathering my zings..."_ Sadness echoed off the statement as the older nation stood up, _"My flight leaves first thing in the morning..."

"Then let me help you pack,"_ Canada replied._

"I wouldn't want to trouble you in such a way—"

"Please," _Matthew insisted, _"If I can't help with your work at least let me help with this."

xxxxx

_Twenty-four hours later Francis was in Paris once more and entering his home. Bitterly he rushed upstairs with his suitcase and began to prepare for that damned meeting. The suit he had packed with him would have to do, as he pulled out the blazer a small object clattered on the bedroom floor._

_What?_

_The blonde snatched up the foreign item. It was a piece of paper, folded over several times. A note? Quickly it was unfolded and the following message read:_

**For whenever you're sick of Europe,**

_Underneath the phrase a silver house key was taped to the paper._

**You're always welcome.**

_Francis carefully peeled off the key and stared at it for several seconds, a tender smile spreading across his face. He never expected Mathieu to be so bold._

xxxxx

Canada stared at the rose for several long seconds.

He had never asked for that key back.

His eyes flickered around the room, half expecting the older blonde to be standing on the other side of the bed or by the windows.

Nothing.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, relief marred by confusion and a strange sense of disappointment.

Francis had been in his home.

The younger nation's gaze fell upon his dresser, feeling that something else was amiss. The red photo album—the same one Mattie had taken from Gilbert—laid open to the most recent page. He didn't leave it that way. The book had been firmly shut since it's retrieval from the albino. Canada looked down upon the book and saw Francis's smiling face next to a torn border. Mattie plucked the photo-half out with the full intent of crumpling it, but stopped as he realized the destruction of the photo he ripped on the day he left France would do little to help his situation. He tenderly replaced the photo and slammed the book shut.

Francis had been in his home.

Reality came crashing down once more and only then did Canada let out a small squeak of surprise.

Francis HAD BEEN IN HIS HOME.

Francis had access to his house this entire time. Mattie wanted to smack himself for not remembering sooner. His panic was quickly replaced with irritation as he continued to stare at the rogue rose.

This needed to stop.

Now.

He glanced to the phone on his nightstand. England had asked him to call if something happened, but it was roughly four in the morning in London, and with America and he so far away it seemed futile to call them. The image of a certain albino flashed across the Canadian's mind. Prussia would definitely help him in this situation, but how could he be reached? He wouldn't be back at the hotel yet and even then the only way to reach him would be through Italy's cell phone, which the Prussian wasn't carrying at the time. The owner of said phone was probably asleep and probably wouldn't appreciate being woken up and it wouldn't be polite to ask Gilbert to drive all the way back—

Of all the things to be concerned about, the Canadian was worried about whether or not calling would be _polite..._

—and even then it wasn't Prussia's problem and he shouldn't really get dragged into it... Mattie laid back on his bed, his brow furrowed and his thoughts stressed. No, he would be the one to handle this. He didn't need someone else to help him; he would handle it... Somehow.

Blue eyes glanced back to the phone perched on the nightstand. He could call Francis... But it was late and the Frenchman was probably sleeping as well but he would deserve getting woken up considering the circumstances—maybe there was a chance that France was still awake, Mattie remembered that when the older blonde had something on his mind he would normally retire to his balcony with a glass of wine and sit there until some ungodly hour... But did Francis have something on his mind? Could he be worried, thinking of a certain Canadian? Matthew could definitely imagine it, a stressed-worn figure sitting by a window contemplating the moonlight, his only companion being a long stemmed glass.

The northern nation shook his head sharply to clear it of the image. No.

"Hey..." A voice whined from across the bedroom, further distracting the Canadian from his thoughts. Kumajiro sat in the doorway of the master bathroom, his muzzle set in the closest the bear could get to a pout, "You said it was bath time!"

"Ah, right, sorry about that..." Mattie turned back to the hamper by his bed and pulled out a towel, "You ready?"

"Yes!" The bear huffed, "C'mon already!"

"Alright, calm down..." The blonde sighed as he entered the bathroom and scooped his pet up into his arms.

The rose would have to wait.

xxxxx

Kumajiro was cleaned and wandering the house while Mattie paced his bedroom floor.

"I call him..."

He was making a slow circuit around the bed, his nightstand looming at the end.

"I don't..."

The trail behind him was littered with small patches of red. He stood in front of the nightstand, the phone there beckoning.

"I call him."

A rose petal fluttered to the ground, he turned away and another followed.

"I don't."

The Canadian took a deep breath and picked up the pace, he'll call him, he won't, he'll call him, he won't. Each petal was quickly plucked, assigned a meaning, tossed aside and forgotten.

Nineteen petals later he found himself reaching for the phone. He had to be the one to stop this, no one else. Summoning his will he cautiously picked up the phone and began to dial. The young blonde held his breath as he heard it ring once, twice, three times—

"_Bonjour,_ you 'ave reached Francis Bonnefoy, I am so sorry zat I cannot answer your call at ze moment, but I promise zat if you leave a message I will get back to you as soon as possible."

_...Beep._

Mattie stood for several moments with his mouth hanging open in shock. He had been so certain that Francis would answer; the Frenchman rarely let things go to voicemail. Of all calls, why would he ignore one from his Mathieu? Was he asleep? Was his phone on silent? Again confusion and disappointment washed over the younger blonde. Why didn't France answer? With a jolt Canada realized that he was in the middle of leaving a message and scrambled to collect his thoughts.

"Um... Hey it's uh... it's Mathieu—Err... I mean it's Canada... We, uh, we need to talk about..." He let out a sigh, suddenly sounding as tired as he felt, "About a lot of things actually... So, when you get the chance, we... Really need to talk... Bye." He hung up, wanting to kick himself for sounding so pathetic. He put the phone back on the nightstand and sat down on his bed. After a few minutes Mattie stood up once more and began to gather the rose petals that littered his floor. He brought the petals and stem downstairs and threw them out.

"Who are you?"

"Canada," The reply came like a reflex as he spotted his bear sitting on the counter. "Kuma, what are you doing up there?"

His pet hopped down and looked up at his owner expectantly, "Looking for more pasta!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, "You're _still_ hungry?" Kumajiro nodded enthusiastically prompting the Canadian to shake his head and chuckle. He opened the fridge and pull out a small bowl of leftovers, "Alright then..." He removed the covering and popped it in the microwave to reheat before setting it on the table. "Try not to make a mess; I don't want to have to give you second bath."

"Okay..." His pet climbed onto a chair and dug in.

The Canadian watched his pet as he leaned against the counter, "Hey Kuma, I locked the door when I left with Prussia earlier, right?"

The cub shrugged, "I think so, it was closed when I last saw it."

"Did you hear anyone opening the door while we were gone?"

Another shrug, "I was sleeping..."

"Oh..." So Kumajiro didn't know. Mattie let out a worried, "Hmm..." as he looked around the kitchen absentmindedly. The roses were still on the edge of the table where Feliciano had moved them earlier and the young blonde felt compelled to put the vase back in the center. As he moved the flowers he wondered, what if Francis hadn't used the key? What if Canada actually forgot to lock the door? He stopped himself. No, he _distinctly_ remembered stopping Prussia when they left to make sure the door was locked. The only logical conclusion was that France either used the key or broke in somehow. At the thought Mattie hastily moved to check all the windows on the first floor and the back door. All were locked and untouched. So France _had_ to have used the key.

Mattie returned to the kitchen to find that Kumajiro had finished his meal and was waiting to be cleaned up. The northern nation grabbed some paper towels, wiped off the bear's muzzle and began to clean up the bowl, leaving his pet free to wander the house once more. Once he was finished putting the bowl away Mattie caught himself staring at the roses.

Should he be panicking?

He felt like he was calmer than he should be in light of the rose he found. Yes, he was slightly alarmed when he found it, but that feeling quickly dissolved into anger and then relief and finally confliction. He was relieved that the Frenchman hadn't lingered after the rose but at the same time he was disappointed he didn't get to see Francis. Matthew knew he shouldn't, but part of him craved to see the Frenchman once more. All he could do was wait until Francis returned his call, and then they would hopefully meet, Mattie would get his key back and then...

Canada tore his gaze away from the bouquet and decided to head upstairs. His room was empty; Kumajiro must have decided to sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight. Canada glanced at the clock before climbing into bed, hoping that tomorrow would bring some luck his way.

xxxxx

He couldn't sleep.

After tossing and turning nearly half an hour Mattie resigned himself to staring at the ceiling, unable to make his eyes close. Why couldn't he just sleep? Several more minutes passed before he threw off his covers and trudged downstairs. He went into the living room and flipped on the television, trying to find _something_ to occupy his thoughts. Futilely he surfed through the channels, eventually settling on some science show that demonstrated how certain things were made.

In the dim light of the television something caught the Canadian's eye. It was the stack of photo albums from earlier; he had forgotten to put them away. During the next commercial he gathered the albums and brought them back upstairs to stow them in the closet where they belonged. Feeling nostalgic, he sat on his bed for a short while to page through each album.

_Ding-dong!_

...What?

Canada shut the book he was looking through with a tired sigh, who on earth could be ringing the doorbell at this hour? He briefly wondered if it could be the neighbor's kids playing ding-dong ditch... Did kids still do that? The blonde felt old for even wondering. He really hoped he wasn't a victim of some prank, he had never had problems with his neighbors in the past and he certainly didn't want to start having them now. After a few moments of quiet deliberation he put the rest of the albums back in the closet and decided to head downstairs to make sure nothing malicious was left behind. He unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Everything stopped.

Shocked.

Still.

From beyond the screen door in front of the Canadian stood none other than Francis Bonnefoy, a bouquet of roses in his hand.

What was he doing here? _What was he doing here?! _Matthew's mind was reeling from the sight of the Frenchman. The young blonde didn't know what to do, as the shock wore off his senses flooded with panic. Should he shut the door or Invite him inside? Demand that he leave or ask what he's doing here? Talk on the porch or call the police?

Francis met his eyes shyly, _"...Bonjour..."_

Mattie quickly looked away, "W-What are _you_ doing here?" The question came out much harsher than intended, when did he learn to sound so cold?

"...I got your message."

_That's_ why he was here? Canada folded his arms, "Do you know how late it is?" Francis averted his eyes and muttered something Matthew couldn't hear from behind his screen door. "What was that?"

"I said I didn't zink it could wait!" Did he hear pain in the Frenchman's voice? Matthew studied the older man for a few seconds, his shoulders were slumped and everything about him seemed to extrude misery. Cautiously the young blonde pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the front porch, refolding his arms as the chilly night air assaulted him through his thin shirt and sweatpants.

France shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, "I, uh, brought zese for you..." He held out the bouquet pathetically. It was so odd to see him without his usual flamboyant confidence. There was nothing mischievous in his face, no malice or spite, just sadness and... Remorse? Regret?

Hesitantly Mattie reached out to receive the gift. He looked down at the roses, saying nothing for the longest time. He counted fifteen in the bundle he held. Fifteen: I am truly sorry, please forgive me. That's what Feliciano said, right? Was this deliberate? Francis couldn't have brought that many on purpose...

Could he?

"Thank you..." The Canadian mumbled.

"You said you wanted to talk?"

"Hmm...?" Canada looked up from the flowers he held, "Oh, yeah..." He bit his lip nervously, conflicted as to what he wanted to say first. His eyes fell upon the roses once more, embarrassed. Why was he getting so flustered? Don't just stand there! He implored himself. Say something! He became aware of how cold he was standing out on the porch, and that France's own arms were folded against the chill. "...Would you like to come inside?" The offer was mostly for his own sake, but Mattie felt the need to extend the small kindness to the Frenchman as well.

Francis looked surprised at the suggestion. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes that Matthew couldn't quite identify, _"Oui." _He replied with the hint of a smile. The younger blonde led him inside and offered him a seat at his kitchen table as he quickly ran into the other room and shut of the television and placed the roses on his counter. France murmured a quick _"Merci,"_ As he placed a bag on the table before shrugging off his jacket. Mattie stared at the bag curiously; he hadn't noticed it when the other nation walked in. It was a paper bag, tall and thin with two small handles at the top. Upon closer inspection the foil covered neck of a wine bottle could be seen. Francis noticed Matthew's questioning gaze, "I figured zat if we were going to talk I might as well bring something for us to drink, no?"

"I-I'd rather not—"

"Come now Mathieu," The Frenchman pleaded, "I drive all zis way so that we may talk like you asked, certainly you can 'ave a few drinks with me in return?"

Canada paused for a moment as if to argue then conceded with a small, "Alright..."

"Excellent! Fetch some glasses, will you?" With a smile France pulled the wine out of its bag and began to open it. Mattie found a pair of wine glasses and set them on the counter as the older man insisted he pour the drinks. After bidding Matthew to sit down Francis set a glass down in front of the young blonde and finally took a seat himself. "So," He started after taking a sip from his glass, "What is it zat you wished for me to talk about, _chéri?" _

Mattie took a sip of the wine and set his glass down. He wasn't one to drink; he just needed a moment to organize his thoughts. First things first, "I want my house key back."

"What?"

"I want my house key back." The Canadian repeated, keeping his tone neutral. "You used the house key I gave you to enter my house without permission, and I want it back."

"_What?"_ Francis's voice sounded hurt, "I found your front door open—"

"That's impossible. I could have sworn I—"

"You were mistaken Mathieu!" France's eyes blazed, "I found your front door unlocked and open, I rang your doorbell and knocked on your door and I grew worried when you didn't respond so I went inside! I was afraid something 'ad 'appened to you!"

Annoyance boiled within the northern nation's voice, "Then explain the rose! Why did you leave it on my bed?!"

Francis's tone softened, "I was planning on leaving ze rose on your front step, but when I was inside saw a light on in your bedroom so I went to investigate. I must 'ave put it down without realizing... but upon realizing your home was safe I promptly left and used my key to lock ze door behind me."

"...That doesn't excuse you from _breaking in_ my home—"

"...How could you accuse me of such a zing?" The pain in France's voice, although soft, was strong enough to cut the Canadian off, "I was planning on visiting you and returning your house key this very night. Even before you called I was hoping zat tonight could be ze night we worked everything out..." He pulled something out of his pocket, "I entered your home with your best interest at heart," He placed the small key on the table in front of Matthew, "If that offends you, I am sorry."

Canada's argument died in his throat and was quickly replaced with chagrin as he stared at the key, forced to doubt his earlier qualms. Did he _really_ leave the door unlocked after all? He did remember locking it when he left with Gilbert, but what if the lock didn't catch? It _was_ an old lock and an even older door, or maybe in his haste he had locked the door but didn't pull it shut... Maybe Francis was right. Embarrassed, he looked away once more. "...I didn't mean to..." France always did have a blatant disregard for privacy, so maybe he didn't see what bothered the young nation about entering his home. He had only entered because he was concerned, and left the rose behind by accident... Matthew looked into the other man's eyes, unable to detect any trace of lies or falsehood. "...I'm sorry..."

"It is alright, Mathieu, I forgive you," Francis took another sip of his drink, prompting Matthew to do the same. The young blonde let out a small yawn, the lateness of the hour finally starting to affect him. "You are young; I understand 'ow you would jump to such conclusions..." France's gaze drifted to the vase of the table, "Zey are beautiful, no?" He looked down at his glass shyly, "I 'ad sent zese hoping zat you would call me..."

"But you called me yesterday..."

"And I can tell 'ow well zat ended..." Misery stained his features once more, "I was a little... Overzealous in zat conversation, I was just so 'appy zat you had answered! I, uh, would like to 'onestly apologize for zat cal..." He shook his head, "Before zen I was too scared to call... So I sent ze roses and hoped you would be braver zan I was..."

Unable to think of a response, Matthew took another sip of wine and they sat in silence. He finished his drink and Francis offered to refill it. Canada drank some more and another wave of drowsiness hit him. He shook his head in an attempt to keep himself awake, but only succeeded in making himself dizzy and slightly nauseous. He was surprised he was reacting in this way; he could normally hold his wine pretty well. Maybe he was a lot more tired than he thought... The alcohol certainly wasn't helping. He looked up to see those sinfully blue eyes blurring in and out of focus, "...W-Why did you come here? W-Why now?" Canada rubbed his brow and fought back his exhaustion. France would answer him and then he'd be sent on his way. Then he'd get to bed. He was starting to feel unwell.

Francis was suddenly standing in front of the younger blonde. When did he get there? When was Canada facing him? He caressed Matthew's cheek, "Because I want to fix us," Why did his touch feel like fire across the Canadian's skin? Matthew lolled against his hand, gentle yet electrifying. The northern nation struggled to catch the man's words, "...I want you back..." Francis's face was awfully close. His words weren't matching up with the movement of his lips. There didn't seem to be enough air in the room.

"_...I love you..."_

Mattie felt lips ghost across his cheek and press against his neck. He was standing. Arms wrapped around him. They were moving. He briefly remembered stairs. A door opened. Something soft beneath him. A soothing voice. A familar touch. A hungry mouth placed over his. A tongue demanded entrance. It felt... Good? No, _fantastic._

He closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>It's the way that he in your mind, it's the way that makes you fall in love, it's the way that he makes you feel, it's the way that he kisses you..." <strong>_**– Pretty Girl by Sugarcult **

**I'm just going to go hide over here... *in corner of shame* I promise this is most mature the story is going to get in terms of sexual themes. **

**Again, I'm a fail when it comes to updating, my summer's been kinda defined by Murphy's Law and I'm also gearing up to start college, which is only going to further complicate things (I'll be living on campus, and quite honestly I'm terrified). **

**A small part of the reason I took so long to update was because I had an internal crisis about Francis's character. When I began writing, I had no opinion of him, but over time he's become part of my top five favorite characters and now I feel terrible when I make him so manipulating (writing the end of this chapter was especially difficult for me). One of my one-shots, The Emotional Musings of a Complicated Connection, is (I think) much truer to his character (albeit it is a FrUK story). So I don't hate France, someone accused me of hating him because of this story so I feel the need to make it clear that I **_**don't**_** hate him. **

**I've also had some problems with the site lately, but I think it's because my computer's been acting up, like when I log in I can't access the tabs on the side to upload documents, etc. but I finally figured out how to get around that by simply putting in URLs manually. **

**I just really wanted to post something before I left for college, and from there who knows when I'll be able to update. I'm also planning on taking some time off from writing to go back and edit previous chapters to improve their quality, but that shouldn't take more than a week or two. **

**As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated and to those who have been so patient with me and have stuck with the story, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. **


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